Shut You Down
by dorcas
Summary: Sheska is given a mission as a soldier to Dublith,so tags along with the Elrics. Set at and taking advantage of the turning point in the manga! Lots of minor characters. HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, Hiromu Arakawa does. That woman is a _genius._

This is a story I really want to do because I've always been a fan of minor characters, and Sheska is a personality I can relate to very fluidly. That doesn't mean that the writing will be so smooth, though! I'm only a sophomore, so please don't expect much of me. Not that I assume you do, but I'd like… oh whatever! Ikeee!

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Central City, Amestris, was famous for a number of things. It was the headquarters for the military, where you went to take the State Alchemist exam, the place an aspiring journalist must be thoroughly acquainted with, and full of many different culinary art colleges. It was very culturally diverse because it was the most secure city, and some would say that that made it all the more appealing to people who needed to leave their troubles behind. All people who weren't Ishballans were welcome, but the tacit rule was if you had light hair and skin you were more likely to be admitted in. It wasn't a fair rule, but Furer President King Bradley had made it clear in that hellish campaign years ago what he was for and against, though his reasons were ambiguous. Come to think of it, he never really had given the citizens of Amestris a valid explanation for why exactly what they were doing was justified. One occasionally got a tremor from their conscience about it, and couldn't help thinking that Central just might not be the place free from troubles it was cracked up to be.

For Sheska, this she knew to was a truth. Mother and her had moved to Amestris when she was young, maybe seven. They had come from a village not far from Briggs, at the base of the mountains. Now that she recollected it, it could pass for an encampment. Much like the scattered Ishballan sites she'd heard about… but cheerier. They had chosen that life over the smoke of the city, and they had been more than content in that life. It was only when Mother had gotten sick that things had spiraled into change, one she wasn't glad for entirely. Fact: Mother could get better treatment from the high and might oncologists in Central. Bigger fact: the money for the insurance and care accompanying the treatment was Sheska's responsibility alone. Biggest fact: Since Mother lived in the hospital now, Sheska's education and method of obtaining that money was up to her. Miraculously, when they'd first gotten there Mother had suddenly produced a bountiful sum of money, maybe a couple thousand dollars. When the doctor had exited the small room with the needles she was relieved weren't for her, Sheska had asked her where she had gotten all of that, and Mother had smiled and said that it was all from the divorce long long ago and things should be just fine for a while. The next day she was sent to public school as a second grader. Horror.

But how proud was Mother when she heard her little reclusive bookworm would finally have an occupation that suited her! Sheska had been elated too; hours and hours in the one place she was used to…where there was order and balance, unlike this strange land of disapproving glares and plastic smiles. She didn't even need to check out a book to read it, she spent so many hours in the library. It was wonderful. Then she was fired, and the world seemed cruel once again.

Until the Elric brothers gave her a task. Until her perception of her blatant worthlessness was blatantly shattered. She'd never thought of her little talent as useful, except for maybe helping with an essay: she could read the books in the restricted area, the ones you couldn't check out they were so valuable, and later reproduce them in secret. It was cheating, to be sure, but her own special way of cheating, and that was what smothered the conscience. Anyway, they'd gotten her a job, at the Investigations Department no less, and she couldn't deny that had been something. But still, this job made her a private of the military, and that meant she had to take a test every year to stay on board, just as the State Alchemists had their annual assessments. Consequently, if you passed the test too well, standards were raised. If she wasn't careful, she could be moved up a level and be expected to gather new information rather than recover lost data. And that was exactly how she got assigned her first true mission.

It was on a Monday; it had to be since Mondays are when a little of Hell leaks over to Amestris, or to the world, she should say, weekly. Monday morning she had no qualms with work because the night before she had put the luck charms she had studied to use. The horseshoe in her uniform's pocket only weighed a few ounces or so, since she liked to get everything cheap, and the common three-leaf clover was the best she could do. Neither talisman could get her out of _this_.

When she got into the office, said her greetings to Lucy and Frank her coworkers, and sat down at the desk to check if it was still as disorganized as the last time she had checked, the intercom came on, garbled and fuzzy as ever. She paid no mind to it: people who were called on the intercom were important, the _officers,_ the people licensed to carry a gun on their uniforms in the building. She kept right on ignoring it up until an officer came into the room with all the stoic-ness of his kind saying he was there to escort a Miss Sheska to Colonel Roy Mustang's office immediately. That was a shock. "Yes sir, right away sir," she'd said dutifully, gathering up a couple of books to keep her company while she was waiting. When officers said "immediately" it really meant you'd be stuck in the waiting room till the higher up called you in. The young man, possibly a recent recruit, puffed out his chest proudly at being addressed "sir". _Poor newbie simpleton,_ thought Sheska. It would be the only respect he'd get around here.

He strutted all the way to the Colonel's office as if he thought she didn't know where it was and this was his mission. Actually, he nearly got them lost twice, and both times Sheska had to cough softly and suggest, "Perhaps you were meaning to go this way, sir?" It nearly made her guilty to see his face crumble momentarily, but since he didn't say thank you she wasn't so sympathetic. As soon as they got to the waiting room she tried to sit down, but he asked her what she was doing, the Colonel had already been waiting for her long enough. She had almost gotten angry with him and brought out her all-purpose voodoo doll, but told herself it wouldn't be nice_._ _You'll get yours, Newbie,_ she couldn't help thinking darkly.

But in the next few seconds, she was led to the Colonel's door, said door was opened by the young impudent soldier, and said soldier gave her a push inside impatiently. She had half a mind to turn around and ay her tanks for the trek there in the crudest way possible, but Colonel Roy Mustang welcomed her from his desk sharply; "Good morning Private Sheska." She started to say oh no, she was no private of the military, just a recovery specialist, but she remembered Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes telling her that the moment she became a librarian she also became a private of the military, because you can't be involved with the military library without holding a rank. So a lowly librarian such as herself was automatically classified as a private. Therefore, she kept silent, save for a mumbled, "Ohayou gozaimasu, Colonel Mustang, sir."

To this he responded with a broad smile that wasn't quite true. "At ease, Sheska. I called you here for something very important I want you to think about: a promotion."

She blinked, surprised. "Sir?"

"This year's assessment of your skills was analyzed over the weekend, and I've decided we could use your skills elsewhere. For example—"

"But sir," blurted Sheska, instinctively clapping a hand to her mouth. She continued tentatively. "I'm needed where I am now, to recover the data lost in the fire. Every time we finish a project another comes up, and unfortunately I am the only one who can do it. It would be irresponsible of me to abandon this job, sir."

The Colonel waited until she raised her bowed head, then said, "Think about it. With a promotion comes a raise, and Edward told me that's one thing you are sorely in need of." Edward! _He_ had gotten her into this grand, imposing office, looking to help her and her mother out of the kindness of his little heart, knowing a raise would do just the trick; …she would _throttle_ him. "Be reasonable. There are less new recruits than there were at the start of the war so we need to make extensive use of the people we have now, for however small purposes. This is not a proposal. I'm telling you to think about it not because you have a choice whether or not to accept, but because you must accept and the best you can do to prepare is to change your attitude toward it. It is every soldier's obligation to be as useful as they can to the military." His hands were intertwined on the desktop, his head lowered so that she couldn't see his mouth to judge if it matched with his stern eyes. There followed a piercing silence.

Sheska said quietly, "Where will I be stationed, sir." Mustang noted she phrased it as a statement because she was resigned and smiled again, lowering his hands. She had her eyes narrowed so that it looked like she was squinting.

"Your place will remain here in Central, however, the missions you will be receiving will require you to travel frequently, so be sure to pack sparsely." At her confused face, he added, "You'll still be in the same office you're in now, whenever you don't have a mission."

"What's the real difference between the position I hold now and this new one, sir?"

"The missions will put your well-being in jeopardy," he said, leaning back into his leather chair. "You will have to act on gut instinct instead of knowledge recorded in stone. You will gather information instead of copying it from memory."

"Still, sir," she protested, "my duty cannot be performed by anyone else. Who will replace me when I am not here?" The notion of her job jeopardizing her health had stirred a new feeling in her: indigence. Now the tough part would be to express it without being rude.

"Believe it or not, you're almost done with rewriting the books destroyed in the fire." She was stunned. How could that be? "If you hadn't been given this promotion, you would have finished sooner or later, and then either been fired or been a librarian again. And who knows how long you'd last at that again." She blushed sheepishly, then straightened up.

"What is my first task, sir?"

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She was dismissed with a twist of his hand and a thin stack of paperwork pertaining to the promotion, the mission, and a layout of Dublith, the town she was to get to in the next forty-eight hours. By train, he had suggested, since it was the most efficient. She hadn't much experience with trains. Coming from the camp near the border with Drachma, they had taken the train, but she had been bleary-eyed at that tender age, all the fragments of memories strands of color. Mother had taken care of it all, and there was never a scary moment before Central. Mother felt powdery yellow.

She stopped in her tracks. Mother! What would she think of this? Who would visit her while she was away to be sure she wasn't being bullied? What if that horrid little purebred Amestrian adolescent with the bulging muscles and lacrosse stick called her savage Drachma barbarian again, if she forgot to conceal her precious petrified maple beads? Who would read to her from the Myth Book?

With all this rushing to her head along with blood, it felt like, which could account for the spinning sensation, Sheska executed a sharp pivot with every intention of heading back to the Colonel, flinging the papers all over his dusty office and own paperwork that was showing mold by now, and telling him he could shove that promotion talk back up his—But there's a blur, along with a whoosh, and what do you know that same impudent soldier was blocking her way. Before she could suck in the breath through her teeth and summon her prowess at upholding manners come whatever situation, he bent his head a little towards hers and brought a slip of paper between both of their faces. "The Colonel told me to take the liberty of getting you your ticket. Dublith, eh? Nice enough place. What kind of job you got there?"

"It is none of your concern," she answered mechanically, and turned on her heel the same way she came. Then, feeling badly for making an exception to Mother's rules, she half-heartedly called over her shoulder to him, "Thank you for the ticket. I do appreciate it." And the young man, standing in the hall, returned it with a wave and a smile.

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That was what she had said, but she was hardly anticipating her ride to the charming little town of Dublith, and much less so her mission. Rifling through the papers, Sheska mused to herself that this was the sort of job she had assumed fit for professional detectives. They had more time on their hands, and no stable conditions in their job. Before becoming a librarian Mother had always told her she'd likely end up working in the bookbinding industry, which wasn't much better than the common papermill factory. That threat was enough motivation for her to concentrate.

But this mission was…scary. Not just mildly cumbersome, but scary. Mustang hadn't been pulling her leg when he'd said the jobs would possibly jeopardize her health, maybe her life! Dublith, hm? Unconsiously Sheska began to mull over the assignment. She was so busy mulling she walked head on into Alphonse Elric's backside, causing a faint ring to go through him as she stumbled backwards and shook her head. Ed's face popped from behind Al's waist, surprised. "Oh, hey Sheska! How ya been?"

"I'm sorry Alphonse! I wasn't paying attention!" First things first. Then she smiled to Ed, having to look a ways downward but wisely choosing not to comment upon it. "I've been fine lately, until just now. I've got a real mission outside of Central. What I'm supposed to do is—"

Al lifted a hand warningly. "Sheska, are you even allowed to talk about the mission?" Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened. She hadn't thought of that. Al chuckled amicably. "It's all right. It took Brother and I awhile to get into the swing of things, too. Where are you going outside of Central?" He added, when she got her deer-in-headlights face on, "You're usually allowed to tell us that, at least."

"I'm to get to Dublith. I was heading to the new library to see if they have a map; I've read only a little about the history of it, but that doesn't count for much." Ed beamed.

"Dublith, you say? We're going there, too!" This was strange-funny; he was smiling and motioning with his hands gaily enough, but behind it one could sense a plan formulating. A plan worth the title diabolical. He chattered on. "We have business there with a certain someone, our teacher, and we were already going to get there with our friend Winry. Oh that's right, you haven't met her yet, but you'll have plenty of time on the train, you know, and we're going to stall—er, stop, actually, at Rush Valley, won't that be fun? Of course it will! Winry said it was like the heart of all automail activity, you must have read about it. And you'll be able to gather information about Dublith from people there, since it's so close by. What a great idea, Sheska, deciding to come along with us, and staying at our teacher's place, too!"

"Eh?" said Sheska. She waved a hand in front of her face. "No no no, I couldn't possibly, it would be intruding—"

Edward's face took on a menacing expression in 0.3 sec. "_You'll be more than welcome._"

'Eep!' Thought Sheska. "W-well then, sure, I g-guess…"

"Great!" Triumphantly, he grinned. "We'll leave tomorrow morning at say, seven-thirty?" Al nodded to confirm. "Make sure you're all ready by then, but don't try to take all your favorite books with you. Too many to keep track of, you know. See ya!" And he was off, tugging his brother in armor behind him. Sheska shook her head, the realization of what she'd just agreed to hitting her full force, then scurried to her old office.

Al watched her coerce a door open with her foot because her hands were burdened with the paperwork. She nearly toppled over, but a private came at the last second. He said to his older brother, bending his head down with a click, "You have an ulterior motive for bringing her along." Matter-of-factly, as was his fashion.

Ed's grin had not disappeared, widening instead. "Think about it. The chances of Sensei murdering us when she finds out what we did are substantially diminished if we have a witness with us; Winry. With two witnesses, the probability of us coming out alive and with all the limbs we have is raised to one out of six!" Al clasped his hands together in delight. That was better than they could have ever hoped for! "In other words," said his ingenious brother in platform shoes, "We're in the clear!"

It was only when she was settling into her seat for the paperwork that she realized she had forgotten to be livid with Edward.

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The young soldier who had led Sheska was under Central now, among the pipes and stench and Pride's many blacknesses. Crackling, his blond hair melted away into long locks of jade green held by a headband marked with a red inverted triangle. His uniform dematerialized and a rather skimpy black outfit was left behind. The man had uncovered himself to be Envy, a wholly androgynous figure, with malignant intent radiating from its strange leer. It held a hand under a dripping pipe and collected the murky liquid. It slurped most and smeared the remainder over its face, for the cool wetness. The homunculus shook its hair and strode into an enormous room. It was met by its sister Lust; awaiting orders from Father. "How did it go?" she asked with her rich alto voice.

"Better than expected," it answered. "Someone's being sent to Dublith."

"So?"

"I got a chance to peek at their mission. They're investigating a gang rooted in a bar called Devil's Nest. Rumor has it that along with illegal drug trafficking, there's this strange humanoid beast with skin tougher than diamond, literally." The woman's bosom expanded marvelously, sucking in a long breath.

"You think it might be Greed?"

Envy snickered gleefully. "Wouldn't that be great if it was? We could get Wrath to storm in and trash it all, even exterminate any pawns he's picked up, and he'll be just _devastated_!"

There was only the sound of it giggling and Gluttony scarfing down a chimera deemed too old for further use, when the soft pats of sandals on cement silenced them both. The tall figure in robes emerged from the darkness and fixed his gaze on the three siblings. "Envy," he said, so dry it was almost a croak.

"Father?"

"I do not want to see or hear of disdain for your brother. He does not know any better, but if we can we must convince him to return. His rebellious tendencies can be dealt with by me, and only me." He paused. "And I take it Wrath is aware of this possibility as well?"

Envy smiled as respectfully as it could. Lust thought it was a very alien sight to behold, with all the leers and sneers it dished out so much more readily. "Yes, he is the one who approves most missions. And," its smile widened a fraction, "he told me the Fullmetal Alchemist would be heading to Dublith, too. I was thinking we could pull some strings… maybe get Greed out in the open."

Father nodded his consent, and Lust's mouth twisted upwards. "But do not forget, my children, your task tonight. One sensitive ant could alert the entire colony." Envy stretched its arms overhead jubilantly.

"Yeah, let's go squash this Hughes guy."

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Sheska was finishing her explanation of what was happening to her supervisor, who sat scribbling on a cross referencing book, glancing at the map of Amestris and surrounding countries, and ignoring her. He really was a sweet man, she thought, staring at the many pictures of his family cluttering his desk, even if he sometimes made her work overtime with no consolation pay. She would miss him and Lucy, and Frank with his pipe, but she'd definitely get to see them again the minute she got back. She turned to the door.

"Sheska, wait a minute." She looked back and he was rummaging through his drawers. "I've got a little something, to celebrate your promotion. Close your eyes and hold your hand out." She obeyed without considering. There was the clack-clack of his military boots crossing the room, and the cold surface of an object flat and paper-thin. She opened her eyes. Just as she thought, a picture of his wife and little girl and himself, Elicia in his arms with one pudgy three-year-old hand on his chest. It was new and covered for protection. He smiled to match the photo, isn't she adorable? She laughed, truly and easily.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes," she said, and closed the door softly after her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, Hiromu Arakawa the goddess of manga does.

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Sheska plodded along the pathway to the hospital nervously. Yes, she had just gotten promoted. Yes, that meant the bills would be easier to pay. Yes, it also meant she could now afford to collect all the first issues of her favorite comics and ingeniously sell them to people she had previously competed with for outrageous prices, and no one could stop her! 'Ah, but that would be illegal, again...' Lately there had been a rush of illicit thoughts streaking through her head. She disregarded the issue for the moment. Now, how would she explain to Mother that hers was no longer a desk job? 'There just might be Hell to pay, if she goes into one of her fits.' Dearest Mother. She thrust the clinic's glass door open violently and remained heedless in her frenzy as the man who's nose it had crashed into writhed on the floor. The receptionist didn't even look up, smiling as Sheska zipped past. "She's been moved to room 42!"

"Thank you, Clarisse!" The answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything, was that right? She was only relieved Mother hadn't been moved to a lower numbered room. The lower you went in the clinic, the closer you were to surgery. She only waited in the elevator with its nifty new jazz music, that hip modern stuff artists were just now fumbling with, till the second floor. At Central HG, the hallways were a bit crowded, so she would scrunch up her shoulders and think narrow as a sparrow till destination was met, but here was desolate, vacant. There was no energy; the halls were mournfully empty. She could skip all the way along if she wanted to, or dance, and the most patients could do was sit up in their beds and command that she halted this ridiculous happiness business at once! She chortled to herself. No, most inmates of the gloomy residence had watched her grow up. She'd won their favor the day she ran screaming and slamming herself on the walls because Mother had cruelly pulled a tall hat over her head and she had been panicked and sniffling and ready to let the dam burst when she had abruptly stopped, dead in the center of the room, and realized all she had to do was take the stupid hat off. When she did, there was Mother on her bed with her hands covering her mouth, shaking, Clarisse, who had been a nurse back then, snapping pictures fluidly, and the whole floor gathered neatly in the doorway, each of them grinning sadistically.

They had waited till she started wailing to laugh.

Sometimes it was so easy to hate people, but that was only after she let herself be tricked. Many times now she had heard it: "Sheska, you gullible fool." Eh, as long as they were entertained, they would underestimate, and never suspect exactly which way the wheels were turning. She reached the new door, with rust on the hinges, and tapped gently to test out the squeak. It was irritatingly loud, just like the last one. Mother's willow voice came from inside. "Did ye bring the Myth Book?"

Sheska loped in sheepishly. "Sorry, Mama, it slipped my mind today. Brought you some candy, thought, since I heard Tapioca Pudding Week is coming up. I've been stocking up for a while now." She dumped the glorious contents onto the foot of the bed. Mother was so short her feet only reached the three-fourths mark, so she wasn't bothered. She tossed the covers to one side and crawled over the excessive length, mouth hanging open.

"Geez, girl, you sure know me!" Mother snatched up a peppermint rock candy stick and unwrapped it feverishly. She explained, munching loudly, "We're in the preliminaries week now, so after lunch, surprise! Vanilla pudding for all the good behaved patients, even more if yer old." She made a candid face of disgust.

Sheska nodded her agreement avidly. "Eh, Mama," she started, and Mother looked at her blankly. "I have some news to tell you..."

Mother sighed. "News, oh boy. Ye were on the library staff, an' then ye weren't, and five days of no visits ye were back in with the same blokes who fired ye. That day ye were bawlin'. I wonder if the sweets ye bring now are a bad omen this time 'round?" She peered at the pile shrewdly.

"No! It's not completely bad, at least..."

"Are ye gonna say something like, 'We'll be able t'spend lots more time together whilst I find me a fresh job'?" Mother snorted. "Child, you shoulda told me sooner, thataways I coulda started helping sooner. Francis down the hall's got a grandbaby looking too. I'll just ask him tomorrow."

"It's nothing like that," said Sheska. She mumbled the next part: "I've—I've been promoted." Now Mother was stunned. She rocked backwards on her bottom.

"Ehhhh? What's this? Me honey's been raised up a notch?" Her voice took on a higher pitch when she was pleasantly surprised. "Why that's wonderful! Why didn't ye say so? Let's go get us some balloons! And we'll climb to the rooftop and let 'em float up to the aliens, and they'll come down 'cause we'll have written the invite on with Sharpie and—"

Sheska cut her excited chittering short. "No, Mama. Tonight I have to pack. I'll be leaving early tomorrow."

Mother frowned. "Ye been transferred?" She knew things like that; Sheska liked to tell her of each day and its happenings and goings.

Sheska sat on the bedside and reviewed the conversation with the Colonel. She repeated verbatim the components of her new duties and requirements. She said that from now on her life would be in jeopardy and she was all right with that. She would accept and abide by the terms the next day when she turned in the paperwork to the front desk. By the time she was finished, Mother's forehead was furrowed, and a finger was on her lips. "Well, honey-babe, it seems to me this isn't fair one bit." She wiped at the creases in her brow with the back of her hand and sighed. "He says ye don't got a choice in it, fine. If yer okay with it, fine. I'll be waiting for ye whenever ye get back." She drew her self up to full height in the bed, which cushioned the effect. "I can take care of myself: I'm old, love."

"Mama..." Sheska smiled.

A nurse's head popped in. "Sorry, Sheska, visiting hours are over." She nodded to their two fingers and was out of sight in a tick.

"Who're ye traveling with?" demanded Mother, stuffing the candy into her pillowcase and a shoebox under the bed.

"Oh, some friends of mine. You wouldn't know them; their names are Ed and Al, remember? The ones who got me back into service? Those are the same." She gathered her book bag up hurriedly, and headed to the door. "Bye, Mama!" She left the door open.

"Funny, the kiddies next door for a while were called Ed and Al, too. Noisy bunch they were," Mother mused to herself. Then she hollered after her daughter, "Don't ye forget to bring me back a souvenir!"

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Mustang was sweating profusely, sprinting to the front desk. He passed Hawkeye, who offered a bewildered, "Sir?" at the flustered state he was in. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, but she followed anyway, badgering him in the way only she could, with uneasy silence. They were halfway to the front desk when she asked him what was wrong, was there anything he needed be done? He slowed, and for a moment thought that maybe there was nothing wrong, maybe Hughes was jerking him around. But what if Scar, that righteously enraged Ishballan, was now resorting to luring alchemists out by attacking the people close to them? 'There's nothing a killer wouldn't do to get the job done,' he thought with hatred towards the avenger. "Yes, Lieutenant Hawkeye, check the payphone located nearest the Investigations Department. Report back any evidence of strange activity." He plunged on.

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Sheska strolled leisurely down the street, homeward bound. Mother had taken it unexpectedly well; this was cause for great happiness, but she wasn't quite all for a celebration like what Mother had begun to conceive. Good thing she had squashed it where it started. She shifted the weight of her book bag and squinted. In the distance, was that patch of thorny blonde hair one she was familiar with? She steadied her pace to a cautious gait, so that she felt like she was drifting mysteriously as a spy toward whoever the dude was. He was slumping near a fancy restaurant with a complicated pattern on its door, and when he turned and the smoke swirled around his head she was certain. "Lieutenant Havoc?"

He turned at his name, not at his title, and that meant something. His eyes were half-lidded as he spoke, the curiosity being how in the world he was able to without dropping the cigarette. "Oh, hey Sheska. It's just Havoc outside HQ."

"What are you doing here?" He shot her a withering stare. OK, stupid question. She said more gently, "Are you waiting for someone?"

He plucked out his cancer stick, blew five consecutive puff-rings, and plugged it back in. "Nah, she must have stood me up. Whatever, I only knew her from the grocery store. I was about to go back home anyway." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "What's your excuse for bein' out late?"

"I'm going home too, from visiting my mom." She strode onward past him, and after a few moments was startled to hear the clacks of his boots behind her. Despite herself, she looked over her shoulder back at him. "What are you doing, following me?" She clutched at the onion extract she kept handy in her sweater pocket. Close to a weapon as she could get.

"I told you, I'm going home. You just happen to be going the same way I am." His tone was irritated, but his face was still lax. She decided not to take the former seriously, even though Mother always said the voice was more accurate than anything when judging a person. She slowed down again and he allowed her to sidle beside him. "I hear the Colonel promoted you this morning. Kudos for you."

She grimaced, and he caught it. "I don't have a choice, that's what he told me. My current role is quickly becoming insignificant. He knows I know I have no other talent because I'm so clumsy with machinery, and with all the hype about new technology factories are the only places with openings. Outside of where I am, I'm completely useless, and the Colonel says my only hope lies in the military. The only direction available is forward."

"Forward is good. Forward is exciting."

"No. I like stable, boring. Boring is good, boring is safe. It's not so much that I'm afraid for my life for my own sake," she said, choking up, avoiding the disgusted gaze she was sure he was directing at her, without looking, "as I am afraid for my mom's sake. No one else pays for her to stay at the clinic. She can't retire because she's never worked in Amestris. She would be so _lonely_."

"I know the feeling," he said bitterly.

She looked sharply up at the higher ranked soldier, and somehow she became frustrated with him. "Why is it so important for you to be in a relationship, anyway?"

"I'm from the country; marriage is involved with status over there. It _is_ important," he said defensively.

Sheska thought hard and glanced up at him. "Maybe you have such bad luck because you're notorious for your short ties. They probably think you're fickle. I wouldn't even consider somebody who breaks up with and picks up two different girls every week, or even a month. It could be that they think you're fickle, or you're not serious, or that you're just looking for flings." When she looked back to him he was slouching so low his face was level to hers.

"But I'm not any of those things," he said, pouting. "At least, I hope not..." He jolted. "Geez! What if you're right, and all I've got to do is build up an honest reputation? That's—that's too simple!"

"Yes, it is. Amazing, isn't it? But you'd have to remember not to try to get into a relationship for a good long time. Abstinence isn't respected by fickle women, but a serious one will count it as a reassuring quality. She'll believe if she hooks up with you you'll be less likely to cheat on her, therefore she'll be less insecure, therefore she will be less likely to cheat on you." She turned into the yard leading to her small house, wet grass squelching under her.

Havoc stood at the edge of it. "I don't mean to be rude, Sheska, but how would you know about stuff like this?"

She stuck the key in the lock and smiled at him. "You'd be surprised how few books there are that don't have some sort of romance tied in with the plot. Pretty tiresome after you realize the redundancy of it all." And before she disappeared inside he caught a glimpse of the mountains and towers of books beyond books crammed in every space possible, stacked in every which way. It looked stuffy in there, he thought, smiling back at her door.

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Hawkeye saw the blood splattered near his feet. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes was inside, she was sure, because there was one of his favorite photos of his family he had not even spared her, inches away from his boots. He was usually good about letting her be. She went smoothly to the entrance of the payphone, and scrutinized the interior, ignoring the stink. The Colonel had been in such a distraught state with good reason. Hughes had a speckle of blood at his heart, and the majority of the life-juice was coming from his backside. He had been shot cleanly through; that took a close distance most of the time. She noted the bullet case by the photograph, it was the same type the military used. But Hughes was well liked by most of the base, so who from within the military would assassinate him simply for an opened position? It made no sense.

She went to the front desk, where Mustang was interrogating the secretary, milking her for everything Hughes had said. She had only taken three minutes. He snarled when she shook her head. She didn't want to tell him. Her eyes blurred, the room was hazy. He asked her if she had seen Hughes running around. It was only then that she began to cry.

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Sheska woke up feeling downright giddy. It was going to be smiley today, she knew by the sun in her lovely yellow drapes. What a chipper morning! Maybe today Lucy would have the candy basket filled at long last. Beyond the windowpane there was the cherry-sweet melody of the new parent pigeons lullibying their babies to sleep so they could go get food. Perhaps she would fling some bread crusts and watch as they swooped down to pick them up gingerly, cooing. They had never once excreted upon her shoulders, and even if they had she was certain she would be mollified by their music. The kid across the street sometimes addressed her as the freaky pigeon lady, but she didn't mind. At least it wasn't bookworm again. That one could get annoying because it was true.

'I wonder if Hughes will let me have my waffle in the office,' she thought, bouncing off her mattress bed. 'I've just finished that last project he gave me, so I wonder if it would be all right to commence another with such a lenient attitude—' Sheska froze.

"Another...project," she stammered to herself in the freedom of her home, "will not be coming..." For a moment, the house was absolutely still.

"AH!"

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It was fifteen after seven. The clamor in the street had stalled her so that she was squished between two bulky men in trench coats for maybe up to ten minutes, until two more weaved their way through and whisked them away. When she had emerged from all the hubbub they were nowhere to be seen, and she had to dismiss the green hand she had spotted to be an odd glove. In any case, she was now making her way through another, more stressed mob. It swarmed and disagreed with itself so that she found herself shoved back and forth roughly.

Eventually she broke free and stood with her arms around a pole. Where were Edward and Alphonse? You'd think it would be fairly easy to spot a seven-foot tall suit of armor, and even though Ed was, er, less noticeable, he wore red always. She raised herself on tiptoe. Now that she could think clearer, she remembered they would be bringing an old friend of theirs along. It had started with a W. Wendy, Whitney, Winnifred...no, something odder. It had been an endearing name, an energetic name, not plain like her own, although the true spelling suggested otherwise. There had been more than one occasion of her forgetting it.

"Yo, Sheska!"

There they were, Ed carrying a leather bag, this antenna slightly crumpled as if someone had brought a large flat-surfaced object on it during a brawl. Clanking beside him was Al with two suitcases in tow, and she felt empathetic toward him, burdened with other people's things. And just behind him was a boisterous, busty, _blond_ girl Ed's age. Her immediate impression: 'Like a _doll'_, she thought in disgust. But she smiled and extended a hand from the pole. "Why hello, you must be Ed's bestest friend he told me about! It's a pleasure to meet you, he said you were ultra-pretty, but I wasn't expecting so much sparkle in you!"

'That may have come across as an insult,' thought Sheska as the girl's expression switched to one of bemusement. "Um, nice to meet you also, uh..." She looked blank.

"Sheska."

"Ah, that's right! The bookworm!" Deep inside, Sheska's mutilated self-esteem leaked crimson tears, stabbed once again. She shot a brief flare at Ed, who shrugged. Must it always start this way? "I am Winry, Ed's mechanic. If you hear he's going into a fight, I'd appreciate it if you told me right away, so I can bash his head in before he smashes my arm." Winry chuckled sweetly. "The little stinker."

"Who are you calling li—" Thwack! A wrench to his skull. Al didn't bother checking him, but Sheska stared.

Ed rubbed his scalp grumpily and said through his teeth, "Come on, we'll miss the damn train." And with that, they went off to find a cart.

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Scar was murmuring under his breath the many prayers of a warrior-priest of Ishballa. He was asking what his next task would be, when he would get out of the camp by the sewers. 'There shall be vengeance,' he thought, clenching his right fist to send honorable pain in jabs up his arm. Each day, they grew weaker. Soon he would rise up and out to fulfill his purpose, eliminating the abominations, the killers without conscience, those beasts set loose on the chosen people. They would be judged as they had been judged. He would bring them to their knees single-handedly.

"What's with the X-guy, Master Priest?"

"Oh, he's just on one of his incoherent tangents again. Snap him out of it, will you?"

A small bag smacked his forehead. That...inexhaustible young boy gave him a victorious two fingers held up. "Bulls-eye!" Scar opened the bag in his lap and took out a raisin. "Don't give me that look. Mama bought those special for you. She had to wear sunglasses and scarves and everything, even though it's getting so warm, so you better at least thank her by eating them." Scar shifted and put all his weight on his legs, straightening and startling the boy. "You want to go out today? Fine with me, but don't tell Mom I let you out. She'll blame _me_ if you collapse or something." The boy knelt and threaded a needle, to fix his kite. Scar moved past him and pushed aside the tent flap.

The encampment was bustling, everyone busy with their chores and obligations to the establishment. The very youngest were little and carried buckets of water for their mothers, clumsily spilling half of the liquid. The very oldest sat on rugs with the woven roofs held above them by sticks, weaving clothing or telling stories or teaching a song to glorify Ishballa. Scar tugged the hood of the sweater given to him over his marking, feeling conspicuous. Presently someone stumbled into his back.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, sir!" The boy leaning on the crutches had his mouth clamped tight and eyes wide. From behind him came a young woman with skin like an Ishballan but eyes that were brown and looked purple from the pink hair at the front. However the rest in the back was normal dark brown. He eyed the boy, who lowered his gaze suddenly, according to the custom of deferring to your elders. The girl spoke up. "I'm Rose, and this is my friend Miguel. He can't talk, and one of his legs is missing, so we're trying to get to a place called Rush Valley. Would you happen to know the way?" It was obviously rehearsed. He looked again down at Miguel and saw that indeed his left leg was gone from the knee down. Just like the Fullmetal Alchemist. He met the boy's eyes, and Miguel gave a shy smile. Rose put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "We've come from Liore."

Scar said, "You need to go south a little farther. Do you have a map?" Both shook their heads, embarrassed. "Do you have enough money for train tickets?" Miguel looked to Rose, who nodded. "Then just get to the railroad station in Central. They have directions for everything; you'll get there in no time."

They lingered, then slowly made their way toward the secret exit. Scar watched the boy limp and almost pitied him. Suddenly they halted. Rose turned halfway, waved, and called to him: "He says he likes your forehead and you're a really cool guy!" Scar raised an arm coolly and spread out his fingers lethargically. Rose laughed, and they continued on their new course, to the gate that led to the sewer and beyond that, the hostile city of Central. He wished them safe travels with a quick customary prayer.

He walked aimlessly in the camp, popping raisins in his mouth dispassionately and smelling all the old Ishballan foods high in oil and spice. Frying virtually anything fit for consumption was a tradition in the peoples' hearts, one that didn't make the life of a fighter easy (try keeping fit in _that_ sort of environment), but it was all part of the culture he loved. Grand Ishbal; the duty of the people was to worship the great Ishballa, and to worship is to love with more than your heart, with your soul. A man who was cut off from Ishbal was also cut off from holy Ishballa's graces, as was written in the book. To be ostracized was a fate accompanied by lifelong dishonor. It was like having your arms amputated; you were no longer capable of accomplishing something for the people surrounding you, so why bother being?

He stopped in his tracks. 'Arms,' he thought. The Fullmetal Alchemist, whom he had left that rainy day with the martial backup, had lost his automail arm. Surely he had to get a replacement quickly, or the military would drop him. It had been a few weeks already, but that was about as long as it took to completely replace a limb. Rush Valley was the heart of automail activity; he would be there.

Scar headed back to the tent.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Fullmetal Alchemist is the sole property of Hiromu Arakawa, who in all ways is amazing and should be nominated for some sort of award! (I think she already has been, actually.)

Well, here I go. I've only gotten this far, to chapter three, in one other story that I don't intend to finish. So as long as I don't give up after this chappie, I think we have a good chance of seeing this one through to the end (as long as I don't get distracted with another fandom, but I don't think that will happen any time soon since Naruto Shippuden is really grating on my nerves). Would you believe, I still don't know how this whole shabam will end? Btw, both Ishballa and Leto's pronouns will be capitalized because each person believes their own god to be real.

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The train the Elric Brothers, Winry and Sheska boarded was hardly crowded, which meant less staring for Al to deal with. There were about eighteen other passengers in the cart scattered around, the majority of them being business people and war veterans heading for Rush Valley. The town wasn't even a friendly place to settle down in; Sheska had read that nearly the entire economy of it depended on automail repairs. She wondered vaguely what would happen to the mechanics should the war ever unexpectedly end: would their products gradually fade out into obscurity, or would they milk current clients out for all their worth by purposefully creating automail constantly in need of repair? She voiced this to Winry, who expressed concern.

"I never thought about that," the mecha otaku mused, " I don't like to think about my services needed so long as people are being mutilated, but it is true. Mm... I guess if the war stops, which I hope for as much as everyone else, I would have to pick up a different trade. That doesn't seem fun, though," she frowned. "I'd rather be dirt poor than give up automail. Oh well. The cars they're designing now are interesting, too."

"That's right," chirped Al. "Who says you can't still be a mechanic? Just like alchemy always has something hidden about it to learn, machinery these days is always evolving."

Ed snorted. "Don't encourage her, Al. She's already such a geek." Winry glared and reached impulsively for her wrench, but it had been confiscated and tucked into her luggage before the train had taken off. She gave a frustrated harrumph as Ed grinned cheekily across from her. He addressed Sheska, but really focusing on Winry's reaction. "We're sorry about deterring you from your mission just because someone here wants to play Miss Tourist. She doesn't even stop to think of the military's tasks, tsk tsk."

Winry whirled in on Sheska, who was sitting next to her and scooting away silently now. "I never meant to, Sheska, you know that! You don't mind, do you? See, of course she doesn't, Ed. I'm sorry Sheska, but this is a strictly business trip for me too; I'm going to learn about different types of automail. Don't deny the dreams of the youth!" Sheska trembled and mumbled a "No, ma'am". Suddenly the blond brightened and reached for the bag she had insisted on bringing with her. "I almost forgot! Mrs. Hughes and I baked a pie together earlier. She taught me the recipe, so I can make it again when you get your body back, Al!"

"Yay!"

The former librarian held up a hand bashfully against the slice offered to her. "Sorry, I'm allergic to apples," she lied, hiding the fact that actually she just didn't like pie. That, and any kind of pudding, made her very sick. She could tell Winry didn't buy it either, because she looked slightly offended.

"I've never heard of a person being allergic to apples."

"You haven't? I once knew a girl who couldn't eat dairy products, wheat, meat, or pineapple. She survived mostly on popcorn."

"Aw, Sheska, you' just read that in a horror book, huh?"

"No, it's true!"

"It's all right. We know you only say these things 'cause your real life is ultra boring."

"Brother, don't say that. Sheska, he didn't mean it."

"Yes I did! Don't just decide what I do and don't mean!"

"It's all right, Alphonse. I'm used to it by now."

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"Young Master, may we aid you in your search?"

"I don't see how you can. I'm certain you know no more of Rentanjutsu than I do." Ling thought better of gulping down the precious liquid sloshing in his canteen and sighed. "I was sure the Xerxes ruins would hold a major clue." Fu stood rigidly behind him, his granddaughter inspecting a wall close by. The sun was more severe on them, he knew, because of their manner of dress, even thought they would never complain. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Ran Fan briefly unmasking herself to wipe her brow. She caught his glance and quickly latched it back on. "Well, there's nothing for it. We'd best press on to Amestris."

Ran Fan slipped up beside Fu and bowed. "We are ready, Young Master." Her voice was toneless as always, but silky-smooth and a rich alto. With his back still facing them, he smiled.

"You both need to take off your masks." Before Fu could mount a protest, he quickly piled on his reasoning in his imperious voice. "We are about to embark on the final stretch, but you two are in no condition to travel for more than a few hours longer in this heat. You need to use common sense: the Ishballans we met near this place were clad loosely and in bright clothing. We should go back to them and see if we can buy or barter some clothing for you."

"But Young Master," struggled Ran Fan, "As your guards it is our first priority to—"

"As guards," interrupted Ling regally, "Your first priority is to take care of yourselves so that you can live up to your own expectations." He turned and saw that while Fu held his gaze steadily, Ran Fan still had her head bowed. "I don't want you collapsing halfway there."

Fu raised his arms slowly and unlatched his mask from the back of his head, then launched a scrutinizing glance at his granddaughter, who was as solid as ever. Then he noticed something. "You fool!" he said halfheartedly, and with a swift motion took off her mask. Ran Fan had been breathing heavily. She was looking sick; her face and hands were baked red. Ling brought his hand to his forehead exasperatedly and hurried to get the horses over while Fu steadied Ran Fan and scolded her. Minutes later, the tree were off on their journey, one horse burdened with the weight of a gluttonous prince and a somewhat limp and warm figure stubbornly dressed in black.

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An hour or so after Sheska had boarded the train with all her nerves crumpled tightly in the stomach, Rose helped Miguel up the steps inside, using the crutch strategically. Because it was a bit later in the day, there were a few more passengers than they liked, but it couldn't be helped. Rose pulled a stern face as many of them took double takes to make sure they weren't Ishballan. She held the gaze of anyone who dared to stare long challengingly till he looked away. Their seats were in the second to last cart, where there was rumored to be more jostling. She had thought that they should try for a cart in the middle since his leg might get irritated, but Miguel had said he wouldn't mind, actually looking excited. He mostly communicated through facial expressions and shakes of his head, but she knew he could talk as well as the next guy; he just didn't like to. Once he had explained curtly, "It'll start shifting on me soon," which Rose humorously interpretated to mean he was practicing for when puberty struck at is vocal cords and he'd have to keep silent to preserve pride. She thought it was cute: he was eight.

There were four seats in each "compartment", two facing two. The one assigned to them was already occupied by a snoring man in a suit. Rose signaled to Miguel that they should be quiet, but he shook his head and pointed to the tree bottles of whiskey deposited at his side. With that, he further proved it by tossing his bag to the seat by the window, smacking his crutch against the hard side of a seat, and sitting down noisily as possible. Rose rolled her eyes and made a show of sitting with eloquence, bag in her lap. A few minutes later Miguel made her take out the cards so he could play solitaire. The train was beginning to dredge itself up sluggishly when who should she see trudging down the aisle but the man they had met in the Ishballan camp? He had a knapsack on his back, and was wearing sunglasses, but he was so easy to recognize that she realized she would probably still be able to tell it was him even if he dyed his hair orange. She nudged Miguel with her elbow and waved to the dark (in complexion and in aura) man. "Oh, you're that man from before! Is your seat here? Come sit with us. Don't worry, this man won't be up for another four hours." He bent and sat stiffly on the edge as the businessman with slick brown hair stirred. "Why are you going to Rush Valley, if I may ask? Oh, excuse me, I've forgotten your name."

He grunted. "Call me what you like."

"Chuy?" Rose shoved her elbow into Miguel's ribs harshly, but he smiled winningly as she apologized for him.

"I am usually called 'Scar' because of..." He touched his middle finger to his forehead. The youths nodded sympathetically. "And I am going to Rush Valley to find someone."

"Is he a friend of yours?" Scar shook his head guardedly. Rose decided this meant he didn't want people prying into his interpersonal relationships. Luckily, she was used to secretive people and had a civil tongue. "Ah. And why do you think he would be in Rush Valley?"

"Because his automail arm was destroyed a few weeks ago. Completely. There is a good chance he is still there."

"I see, an automail arm." Rose smiled slightly. "Mm. You know, lately in Liore there has been increasing violence over the death of the false prophet of Leto." Scar held eye contact with her tolerantly, although she could tell he didn't think much of Leto. She continued quietly. "I know you believe Ishballa is the only God, but that's how we feel about Leto too. And we believed wholeheartedly that all His prophets were sent from above, sincere in their intentions. 'Father' Cornello came to us granting miracles, and we all fell for him. We even believed he could raise the dad." Here she narrowed her eyes sorely, then relaxed. "Then one day a small young man with an automail right arm and his brother in armor popped in and exposed Cornello for the liar he was overnight. He told me that there was no way to bring the dead back, that I shouldn't count on what others tell me; he said I need to use my own legs and move forward." Her smile was uncertain. "I still want to believe in Leto, even though now I can't ever trust prophets again."

"Haven't you given up on Leto?"

"It wasn't Leto who was corrupt, it was the man who used His name for power." She paused. "If you don't mind me asking, Scar-san, do you still believe in Ishballa?"

Scar wasn't startled by the question. On another day it would have mad him angry, but this girl was only looking for answers. "Yes, I do. If Ishballa had truly abandoned His people, the extermination would have succeeded. We are in a bleak time now, but we still have a chance."

The boy held his crutch in his left hand, staring out the window. The landscape was desolate, a wilderness of some sorts, with a pine grove every two miles and birch trees sprinkled here and there. At the bank of a steam running alongside the train tracks was a great silvery willow tree stooped over in solemn age. He was staring intently out at the fields beyond, but Scar saw he was listening because he nodded at some points. At the silence he straightened up and held out the deck of cards to Rose. "Oh, would you like to play Speed or Slap Jack?" He held up two fingers and pointed to Scar. "He wants you to play. It will be a long ride. Would you, please?"

He was not given the opportunity to decline. "The rules are simple, very simple. It will get boring after three rounds, so I'll teach you Speed next. In this game the idea is to get to the card first so you can keep it for the rest. We'll all have a third of the deck and take turns laying a card face up in a pile. You have four chances each game to spot a Jack. When you see one, slap it. The first person to get to it keeps it."

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Central, despite being the largest city, capital, and center of Amestris, didn't have much of a nightlife. At least there wasn't one in the exact true center, where the Furer and the military reigned. It wasn't that the crime rate was the lowest here so much as it was always dealt with much more quickly and efficiently. This was why the Scar case was so famous; he had evaded the martial forces' grasp each time he appeared so far, and should he show up again he could very well break a record. He also wasn't feared as much as he probably should be; after all, only a small minority of the military was qualified to be a State Alchemist, and it had slipped out that he had thus far not been known to target civilians.

Soldiers liked to think the main reason that the crime ate was kept at bay was the positioning of certain places prone to encourage mishaps. Of course, the top on the list has always been "bars", shops in which customers may consume as many alcoholic beverages as they can buy in one night. The brilliance of the founders of Amestris was manifested in the city's plan: all bars were located in the same district. Now, this allowed the military an assumption that most criminals would live near that district, and that people who lived in districts far away would be less prone to crime.

As a renowned and legendary serial killer, Barry the copper knew this tact to be absolute bologna. The criminals that truly deserved the fear of the citizens wouldn't rely on any specific substance for his genius. No, a serious and dangerous man would simply believe himself to be justified in his killings whether for a cause or just because he enjoyed it. The one thing that really bummed him out about killing was when they fought back and injured him. It just took away from the butchering of human flesh experience. A great thing about this new body was the fact that not much damage could be inflicted upon it. It was with this perspective that he conducted himself after the flattening of Lab 5.

The first thing he had to do was disguise himself in case that venomously lithe Lust patrolled the city. He settled for a burlap sack. He considered going out of town but knew that this was unquestionable. He would have to stay in Central; he'd go the bad type of insane if he didn't have enough victims to supply his survival appetite. Next was where he would be headquartered: nowhere in particular. It would be less easy for anyone to pin him down that way. Besides, it wasn't like he needed a place to sleep. He would keep moving all through the night and find a deep alley when he was more noticeable during the day.

Barry was well aware that although neither the military or the Homunculi were combing the city for him, should he give them the chance they would just drag him to a lab and conduct all sorts of experiments on him. Well with Lust it was more likely that they would just dispose of him before he could leak information not to be made known to the human sacrifices.

He was sitting on a park bench in the bar district, waiting. Drunkards had a lot of body fat, which was very exhilarating to chop up because he could slice through it like butter; it was so much of blatant nothing. He liked to chop obese people standing up. When his cleaver sliced the man-boobs from their bases they would slide down the rounded body and fall to the asphalt with a satisfying plop. Next to go was the arm fat jiggling below the biceps (or triceps, whatever; he had learned the anatomy of beef-meat, not man-meat as a butcher), then the thy fat behind the quadriceps, then the calves, then the floppy, sagging ass, and finally the big prize, the sweetest sensation: the belly. It was thrilling just to imagine!

Midnight had passed not ten minutes ago. It wouldn't be long now. Barry peered down the street expectantly, and sure enough there was some unlucky drunk chump taking a swig from the bottle at his hip every eight paces. He was in total bliss; he would be caught unaware. And he was. The suit of armor adorned with a burlap sack fell into step beside him, and he didn't flinch. Contrarily he looped his arm around its neck and leered in its face. "Maan, when you get laid off by the military ya know somethin' wrong wichoo. S'not like they lookin' fer smarts, right? Ya know, man?" He gave the suit's shoulders a shake.

The eyes of the suit twinkled. "I know, huh?" It drawled, the loping man not catching the hollowness of the sound. He didn't notice himself being steered amiably and gently into a small alley with a dumpster. He did notice, his mind returning to him briefly, his guts spilling out onto the ground, but before he could rustle up a good scream his vocal cords were severed as his head detached from his shoulders and smacked into the wall, landing by his entrails with a charming thunk. If Barry could whistle still, he'd be piercing the air with "Having a Wonderful Time," with enough gusto to be admitted into the ranks of an opera. As it was, he could still sing, but barely so that it had a chilling effect even if the tune was BINGO. "'What might bother you...'" he crooned, finishing up, "'Doesn't bother me!'"

Moments later the suit with the gaping mouth emerged from the slit between buildings and set off down the street at a rolling gait. He had ditched the remains in the conveniently placed dumpster, reminiscing of the glorious scent of a job well done. What he wouldn't give to feel the bones of the spine, the sticky fluids running between his fingers! ...It was at times like these he felt the most empty.

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Scar had succeeded in bruising Rose's fingers the first round, so the next two he made so much of an effort to hold back that he was sure to only move his hand once both youths had slapped the deck. After the third round Rose saw he wasn't even looking at the cards, only their hands, and called it off. "Okay," she said patiently, "This next one is called Speed and can only be played with two people, so Miguel and I will go the first round as an example." She began dividing the deck into two piles the accurate way, then laughed and put them back together, embarrassed. "Here I am talking like an expert and forgetting the first step in setting up. Let's start again." This time she dealt out five cards facedown, two cards beside each other still faced down, and five more identical to the first stack, all in one row. Then she split the remaining cards again, passing one half to Miguel.

Before they began, Rose turned to Scar to explain. "It's only complicated the first time, but everyone loves it once they get the hang of it. Me and Miguel will each turn over one of the cards between the two stacks to start the game. Once we see the number, we can put cards on top of it from our haves. You can only have five cards in your hand at once. You can only put a card on another if it's one unit below or above that card. So if there's a three there, I can put down a two or a four. Royalty goes like ten, Jack, Queen, King, and Ace, with two following Ace 'cause its value is one. If none of your cards can be put down, then you each flip over one of the cards from the stacks on the ends. The goal is to get rid of your half before the other guy." She smiled at his blank stare. "Don't worry, it'll all make sense soon. Just watch closely."

Once the two cards between the stacks of five were revealed, the youths' hands became blurred, and Scar, who had trained as a warrior-priest of Ishbal for many years and learned to use his senses swiftly as a gun, became lost among the motions. But as it wore on, he began to follow it and see how it was done. So when Rose set the game up again between him and herself, saying, "Let's see you give it a whirl," he was ready.

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After three hours stuck in the train stuck with Winry (who managed to find creative wrenchless methods to beat him) sitting across from him, Edward was sore in body and in spirit, and didn't hesitate to let everyone know. "Winry you _jerk_!"

"Oh shut up. Don't spoil it for me or you're in for a world of hurt." She said this with sparkling eyes and dimples in each cheek, hands clasped over her heart as if it would stop from excitement. Mecha paradise! Everywhere she turned, shops where automail mechanics showed their skills and proved their worth, manufacturing sleek limbs of the highest performance level. Her head was spinning with unadulterated pleasure.

Upon entering the automail town, Sheska felt as though she was setting foot on foreign land. "Where is the love?" She choked, hands clutching over her heart as if it would stop with terror. Artist's bane! Everywhere she turned, Philistines ravenous for money, hassling with customers and charging more than their services' worth, manufacturing tools for violence and hate. Her head was spinning with absolute shock.

"Now now, Brother," said Al soothingly, "try to get along. If we don't interfere we may get out of here sooner, otherwise she might keep us here forever out of spite," he added in a lower tone. Of course, since his voice tended to echo in his hollow body, Winry heard every word and dished out a debilitating smirk over her shoulder. The Elrics shuddered. Al turned to Sheska and pointed out a general store nearby. "Wait fur us in there, ok? There might be some books... ah, wait Brother, I don't think that's such a great idea! Winry, stop him!" Sheska watched Al chase his elder brother to an automail arm wrestling contest and shuffled over to the store, which turned out to be a pawnshop. At a glance she could see there weren't any books, but in this horrible oily town she supposed she had to make do with examining antiques. Most trinkets were the only ones in stock and priced fairly high, strangely enough, as they were ordinary objects she saw in everyday...modern...life...

From a respectable distance, Sheska inquired the shopkeeper where his merchandise came from. "Eh, here and there," he murmured distractedly, punching numbers in the cash register. "Various patrons," he elaborated.

Just when Sheska's suspicions had been quelled, a young but tall girl in a black tank top, high baggy pants and low pony tail burst in. "How ya doin'? Listen, I got something good for you today. Real fancy watch, see." To Sheska's surprise, the watch she held to the shopkeeper's face was Edwards!

"Um, excuse me," she said to the girl loudly, recalling that she was often ignored because—Mama said—she didn't assert herself. "I'm sorry, but that watch you are holding happens to be an official State Alchemist's amplifying watch."

"What?" said the man behind the counter. "Like from the military? Boy, you've done it now, Paninya. I'm not taking it."

The girl looked indignant. She still held the watch suspended above the counter. "What are you insinuating, that I stole it?"

"I never said that. It may have been misplaced," said Sheska evasively. "In any case, the boy it belongs to is blond, has an automail arm, and is very short. I can give it back to him if you'd like; I'm with the military, don't worry."

Paninya bit her lip, smiled warily, and handed the watch to Sheska.

"WHO SAID THE DAMNABLE WORDS, 'VERY SHORT?!"

Ed smashed through the door, sighted the former librarian and snatched the watch out of her hand. He stood there glaring at the both of them, Al calmly fixing the door and holding it open for Winry, who strode in with a bedazzling smile directed at Ed, cracking her knuckles on the way. "It's only been ten minutes and you're already making trouble!"

As the Fullmetal Alchemist was being pummeled into goo, Paninya tried to reconcile with Sheska, acting slightly humble. "Didn't know, ya know. Just gotta do what I can to pay off a little debt." ("Little? Did someone say LITTLE just now?!" "Quiet, you!" crack)

It's all right," answered Sheska, wanting to smooth it over too. "I won't report it or anything so long as it gets solved here. This isn't in my department, but I'm pretty sure stealing is illegal. Haven't you tried to get a regular job?"

"Well, it might have been that easy if I'd started that way," she sighed frustratedly. "But from the beginning I've just done this, since it seemed real simple and I was too young to work when the debt showed up."

"Not to be rude, but what kind of debt is it?"

The girl smiled indulgently. "You must not know this place very well. Everything around here," she said, bending over and rolling up her pant legs to the knees, "is in some way related to automail." The legs gleamed. Winry halted mid-punch.

"Wow!" She exclaimed bubbly, "Such craftsmanship!" A stream of strict automail terms spouted out quicker than Mustang could steal a girlfriend of Havoc's. "Who was the mechanic? Please tell me! I'm looking for a master so I can learn."

"Um, the guy who gave me these is what you'd call a master, yeah, but he's not the type to accept apprentices. A bit antisocial."

"I'd like to meet him to ask myself, then. Please, do you think you could take me to him?"

Paninya winced, but grinned. "Tell you what, I'll call him for you. He doesn't exactly live in Rush Valley, see." She asked the shopkeeper for the phone and dialed anyway when he refused. Because it was very silent in the room, Winry having put Ed's whining to a stop, everyone could hear what came through the speaker. It rang for a very long time, but Paninya told Winry not to be disappointed yet; he never picked up before the seventh ring because he was superstitious. There was a click, and Paninya's voice immediately rose in pitch and energy. "You, Dominic, sir! How ya doin'? Listen, I got some more money to pay off the legs—"

"Dammit, Paninya I told you I don't need any atonement crap! And you know what, I'm busy, so g—"

"Aw come on chief, we both know you have next to nothing to do over there."

"My daughter-in-law's in labor right now! I need to make sure the doctor doesn't screw up and kill 'em both!"

Winry took the phone from Paninya. "Sir, the best thing you can do for her in that situation is to leave the doctor to his work so that he can concentrate. You might also be able to supply some warm water and clean washrags to make her more comfortable. If you have ice, too, that would help a bit."

"Who the hell is this? Don't tell me how to take care of my family, butthead! What makes you think you know—"

"I'm the daughter of two doctors, Mr. Dominic, sir, and I suggest you take my advice. The number one cause of death is human error, which has most often been reported to have occurred due to distractions in the field."

The line was silent. "Paninya, I'll call you back." **click**.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, the manga, because if I did I would hardly be able to keep myself from exploding from the excitement.

You know, you guys, I can see that there are at least a few people reading my fic, but yet I still only have one review. Don't get me wrong, I'm not out for attention, but COME ON! It's common courtesy to give back helpful feedback. I really do want to finish this fic, but I've got to get a sense of what you guys are feeling, too. Anyway, the whole point of writing in the first place is to either communicate to society or have fun, and you know what? So far, this is fun. So I'm going to finish this fic even if nobody likes it, even though it'd also be nice if I got more reviews. You can even flame me, really! Glad we've got that settled. (Hahaha.)

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The Ishballans at Xerxes hadn't seen the Xingian girl until she was nearly upon them. Not that she was a threat; although she was not at all surprised at finding Ishballans still living in the middle of the desert, she'd made it clear that she had no intention of alerting some officials of Amestris of their existence. Also, there was the fact that she was only about four feet tall. No one had asked her age, but she carried herself as someone with the optimism characteristic of a ten-year-old. She also carried a distinctively diminutive but adult panda bear-which, when introduced to the wine stocks, helped itself to more than its share.

They had stayed one night in the camp. When they'd asked her where her destination was, she told them she was looking for immortality. When she'd sensed the uneasiness from her answer, she suddenly asked if there were any injured in the camp. The young man who had been in battle with the Xingian female guard showed her the slash on his arm they had wrapped up. The girl commented that the yellow pus around the area meant it was infected. She then drew a small circle that emitted an eerie glow when she placed her hands on it. At first the patient grew upset and thought it was witchcraft, or that devilish alchemy, but as soon as she removed his hands he saw that the wound was gone from the surface. He thanked her, amazed, and she was modest about it, but she also said that it was to prove that she had no ill intention. They'd all smiled, still warily.

The next day she asked for directions to Amestris and they pointed her to the west. She made sure to catch each of their eyes as she said her goodbye, and even when she was far into the distance the elder noticed she turned round and gave a strong wave. He couldn't help wondering if she'd make it.

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It started raining outside right when Winry hung up the phone, and she still wanted to talk to Dominic, so they all ended up sitting on the floor of the pawn shop, talking and eating the candy bars Al made Ed buy them all. Once in a while the man behind the counter would grunt at them to get the hell out of his store, but Paninya told them not to take him seriously and told him that they were probably the first customers he'd had all week. He grumbled and flipped through a newspaper then.

The phone rang after twenty minutes of that and Winry bolted to snatch it up, but then asked anxiously for Paninya to pick it up since she was still a stranger to him. Paninya shrugged and held the receiver far from her ear sagely. "Y'ello?"

"Who is this? Paninya, lemme talk t'that other chick, the doctor's daughter."

Paninya smiled encouragingly and handed over the phone to Winry, who fidgeted and coughed before speaking to steady her voice. "Yes, this is Winry. Uh... did the baby make it out without any trouble?"

"I'm a grandaddy!"

It sounded so cheerful, so _bubbly, _that Paninya, who was standing nearby, made a shocked face and said disbelievingly, "That doesn't sound like him at all!"

Winry seemed unsure about what to say next. "Um, that's great, Mr. Dominic, sir. I'm glad it's healthy."

"Yeah, it's all right now! We didn't even have to go and get a doctor!"

"Mm-hm."

There was more of Dominic's happy babbling on the other end, and Winry kept humoring him, but eventually he seemed to understand that she wasn't exactly interested. "So," he said grudgingly, as if insulted, when he had composed himself, "What did you want the first time you called?"

"Well, sir, I happen to be an automail mechanic, and I've really come a long way, and I heard that you're a master automail mechanic so I wanted to-I mean, I was wondering if-well, Mr. Dominic sir I would be honored if you would allow me to study under you as an apprentice!"

"Hell no!"

Winry's face fell, and her shoulders drooped, but she was instantly beseeching earnestly again. "Sir, I would ask that you would please reconsider!"

"No!"

"...please?"

They bantered back and forth, Winry slumping lower and lower onto the counter for each rejection, and Ed sighing impatiently. Sheska began to feel sorry for her, and asked Paninya if Dominic was always this mean. She looked amused. "He's not exactly mean, you know. I mean, you heard him going on about the baby, right? He just acts like this when he feels like somebody's butting into his life. He's very reclusive, you know."

Finally, they heard Dominic's voice become tired. "Look," he said, "if it will get you off my back, I do happen to know a guy who's willing to teach if you're willing to work in his shop. Plus, you helped out a little, so this way you can't come back and say I owe you. Hurry up and get a pen, willya? I don't got all day." Despite what he said, he did wait until he heard the sounds of the frenzied scrambling stop before spelling out the name clearly and slowly. Sheska had expected him to mutter it out quickly and hang the phone up before he could be badgered again. "The name's 'Garfiel'. That's G-a-r-f-i-e-l. His shop is at..."

Winry wrote frantically; her career depended on it. Ed leaned over her shoulder, listening to the other end and occasionally saying in a matter-of-fact voice that she'd gotten some piece of information wrong, so that she'd say "Shut up, Ed," but then scribble out what she had written and ask for confirmation from Dominic. Eventually Al said, "Quit bullying her, Ed," and tugged his offending big brother away by the hem of his coat.

After about ten minutes, Winry said, "Thank you so much! I appreciate it! I'd like to visit you in person to express my gratitude! ...well, then I guess I'll see you someday soon. ...okay, I won't bother you again. Yes sir, I understand. Thanks again." She set down the phone and gave a relieved sigh. Then she turned to the three and squealed. "You guys, I'm going to be an apprentice! I'm going to learn so much! What'll I do? I'm so excited! Ed, Al, don't you know what this means?!"

Al and Sheska congratulated her, but Ed snorted. "Whatever. Just don't come back crying when you find you actually have to _work_ to learn."

"Brother, come on!" But Ed turned his back on Winry, and Sheska saw that he was laughing. Paninya caught Sheska's eye and winked. Al sighed. "Winry, don't get mad, he's just messing with you."

Winry groaned. "This again, huh? Whatever, now I've got to get here," she pointed to the address. "And I don't know where that is."

"Lemme see that," said Paninya, holding her hand out confidently. "Yup, I know where this is. I never would have thought Dominic was friends with this guy, though. He's kind of a weirdo. A pervert." Winry blanched. "Oh, but don't worry, you'd be safe there. Come on and follow me, it's not far."

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Garfiel was, in fact, a homosexual, and Ed and Al felt so strongly about this that they decided to stay outside the shop where it was safe until the girls came back out. Sheska and Paninya thought the man was immensely funny, but Winry only had eyes for his many works, which he proudly displayed all around the shop. As Winry examined each limb eagerly, Sheska couldn't help but realize that this was what Ed was referring to when he called her a "mecha otaku": said otaku went about her business with groping fingers and bulging eyes, taking small gasps of air so that it sounded as if she were panting. But that was only her perspective, and what would she know about appreciating technology? Garfiel, on the other hand, was satisfied. "I see you have good taste," he said as she caressed a forearm lovingly. "Yep, you've sure got an eye for craftsmanship!"

Winry whirled around. "Does that mean you'll accept me as your apprentice?" Garfiel feigned disapproval with a haughty hand to his chin. "I promise I will work hard!"

He laughed. "Well sure! I just know we're gonna be kindred spirits! Do your best and you'll be fine."

"Thank you! Don't worry, I will!" She beamed at Sheska and Paninya, giggled, then strode to the door and shouted to Ed and Al, "I did it, you guys! And you'll see, I'll learn so much by the end of my training you'll eat your words!"

"Yeah right! Don't believe her, Garfiel, she's a real slacker!"

"Brother, be quiet. Garfiel-san, that's not true, she's a great worker!"

In only a few minutes, it was all settled. Winry had already brought what luggage she had, and the apartment that Garfiel had rented was only right next door to the shop, so she moved in right away. She made sure to make Ed write down their teacher's phone number, and asked for the shop's number to give them, in case anything happened. "If you call me in no less than two weeks saying that you've already broken my arm, I'll have to clobber you," she said, only half joking. Paninya began to chuckle, but Ed grimaced in expectation.

They waved to her till she was out of sight, and started on the road to the train station. Sheska explained to Paninya that the Elrics were going to Dublith in order to ask their teacher some things. "I see," said Paninya, nodding. "And why are you headed there? Are you an alchemist too?" Ed sniggered.

"Ahaha, no way! You see, I've just supposedly gotten promoted to investigator, but really it's that my old job was becoming moot, and they were low on staff. I'm hardly qualified for this sort of work, but I guess they must have been desperate. They call the job they've given me a 'mission', and this time it's to investigate a certain establishment in the town of Dublith. Edward and Alphonse were headed there, and they said they would be happy to have me along..."

"Yeah, about that..." said Ed, giving a wincing grin, "No offense, Sheska, but we only really wanted you along because having a witness somewhat subdues Winry. This time it didn't work out as well as I'd hoped, but hey, you helped a little at least." And now he could only hope fervently that his original hypothesis would prove correct when it came to Teacher.

"Um, no hard feelings, Sheska? We really have enjoyed you coming with us this far," said Al meekly.

"It's alright Alphonse; I suspected as much anyway." Sheska gave herself a moment to recover, then turned to Paninya to include her in the conversation, but also because she was curious. "So where are you going to go? Have you thought about what you want to do instead of what you were doing?"

"Yeah, thief," said Ed grudgingly; he'd been less than ready to befriend the person who'd stolen such a precious item, "Ready to fess up and live like an honest person?"

Paninya ignored him cheerfully. "Actually, Sheska, I was just about to ask you about that. How much dough've you got?"

"Huh? Um..." Sheska was startled and unsure if she should be on guard. "I've got enough."

"Enough for two people to last for a week or so, would you say?"

Sheska said, squinting, "Oh, I see what you're getting at. Well as a matter of fact yes I did bring enough money for two, to be safe."

"Sheska, you should know that carrying a lot of money around makes you anything _but_ safe," Al interjected helpfully.

"Yeah, it makes people label you 'loaded tourist' right away. And if you'd brought your books along, the effect would be complete!" Guess who.

"...And you must be planning to subsist on half of it till you're satisfied with your career options."

Paninya had a good sense of humor. "Hahaha! Not quite. I do have some money of my own to contribute, but yeah, I was thinking I'd come with you guys to Dublith and see what's there for me. It looks like I'll have a better chance over there, since it'll take a lot more time to gain back the trust of some of the people here." She grabbed Sheska's hand for effect. "So whadaya say? Willya lemme come with you for a while? I'll go straight back home if you get tired of me."

Sheska looked to Al for help, but he only shrugged, deeming it her business. She didn't bother looking toward Ed. But with Paninya squeezing her hand warmly, she felt she had no choice. "All right, sure, I'll help you out. But you'd better hurry and get whatever you want to bring along right now; it looks like Ed's getting sick of waiting."

"That's right," confirmed Ed gruffly. "Winry's taken care of, so don't think I won't just up and leave you both here."

"Take as much time as you need," assured Al. "I won't let him buy the tickets till you get to the station too."

Invigorated, Paninya whooped and pulled Sheska down the street towards her home with so much force that Sheska found her feet lifting off the ground with the momentum. She could hear Ed complaining behind them, and felt smug.

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She had said she'd be at the cafe by noon, but it was fifteen till one when she showed up, and by that time Havoc had an idea about what was going to happen. Sure enough, the first thing she said when she got within five feet of him was, "Jean, I think we should see other people, and it's not you, it's-" she stopped. He had been mouthing the words. "Did you already know...?" she asked shamefacedly.

He let out a cloud of smoke with the sigh. "It's only a guess, but would his name happen to be Mustang?" She gaped at him and started to apologize awkwardly. "It's all right. It was fated to happen as always. I should have known better." By this time he had turned his back on her and was muttering darkly, intentionally making her more guilty by the syllable. It made him feel better when they were guilty.

But he had brought it on himself, he realized. That Sheska lady had given him her advice and he'd blown it all the first chance he got. On the one hand, he was a bit ashamed about making a sort of vow to himself and immediately breaking it on the first temptation, but on the other hand, as he looked over his shoulder at her retreating form and whistled to himself, it had almost been worth it this time. Silently he cursed the Colonel, even though he knew Mustang never really meant to steal his girlfriends. Although he had a reputation like that, he didn't have enough motivation going that way in order to purposely sabotage his subordinates' happiness...or did he? Sometimes Havoc had to wonder.

He looked at his watch and went to the counter to pay for the sandwich he'd eaten while waiting. Behind him, seated by herself at one of the small round tables was an unusually attractive, sophisticated woman with luxurious black hair and a body to match, reading a newspaper. Seeming to suddenly recognize Havoc, she lifted herself off the chair in one graceful movement and stood at the door as he came to the exit. "Excuse me," she said in a silky voice that jolted Havoc out of his self-pity session right away. "Would you happen to be the soldier I saw last week, handling that fight at the pub?"

Havoc recalled the fight, which he'd covered with Breda. "Yes... but I'm sorry, I don't seem to remember you." The woman smiled genially.

"My name is Solaris," said Lust, holding out her hand.

He grasped it gently, hoping beyond hope that this one would go right. "I uh, I'm Havoc. Nice to meet you."

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The businessman on the train had woken up only when the announcement on the intercom that they had arrived blasted loudly enough. By that time, Scar had won a total of zero speed games with Rose out of twenty. She kept suggesting that she give herself five or so more cards than he so he'd have a better chance of winning, but he would have none of it. Miguel's shoulders shook as he laughed silently. But as soon as the man began stirring awake, Scar whipped his shades back on and leaned back into his seat, refusing to talk any more with either of the youths. By Miguel's facial expression Rose could tell he thought the man was being rude, but she whispered to him, "He's just shy and doesn't want to talk to other people. You know about that, right?" Miguel nodded resentfully. The drunkard businessman asked if they were there yet.

When they got to the station and stepped off the train, Rose stopped Scar before he could melt into the crowd. "Would you like to keep traveling with us? The person you are looking for could be in one of the shops we visit..."

"No," said Scar shortly, "I'd better search on my own." He gave a nod to Miguel. "Good luck." Then he disappeared behind a tourist. Rose put a hand on Miguel's shoulder comfortingly.

"Come on," she said, "we have a lot of looking to do." She straightened up and scanned the area for automail shops, but immediately found herself overwhelmed. Where could they possibly start? She should have read up on automail before coming here! All she knew was that it had to do with connecting the nerve endings of the remaining stretch of limb with the artifitial part, and that mastering the movement of it took a considerable amount of rehabilitation time, effort, and willpower. She hadn't thought about the options advertised in the shop windows. She put a hand to her face, trying to block away the smell of oil and metal so she could think.

Miguel tugged at her skirt and made a rolling motion with his hands. "I get it. You think we're bound to come across something as long as we just keep looking, right?" Rose shouldered her pack and started walking with a bouncy gait, swiveling her head from side to side. She hoped that if she made it clear she was searching for something, someone would help them out. In the meantime she peered through the windows of the shops and saw that there were several different types of automail, and several different designs. A little intimidated, she would have held Miguel's hand if he didn't need to work the crutches, but she caught herself, realizing that she needed to show a little more fortitude for the both of them.

But, she was already lost, and it then occurred to her that she would be running out of money and she hadn't thought of the fact that the rehabilitation would need to take so long, so they would need a lot of money to rent a room or something and to get food... why hadn't she thought of this before leaving? She would have to get a job, and make enough to sustain the both of them, even though she was hardly qualified for more than secretary work at the most professional. Maybe a job with cooking, or kids...

She stopped in her tracks. Miguel was eyeing a particular shop curiously, one with an elegantly decorated facade, especially the sign above the door, which claimed the shop in a "Garfiel"'s name. It didn't sound like a woman, so it must be a man who owned it, but if the flowers and sparkles surrounding the letters were any indication, this mechanic was a homosexual. Now, Rose, although she believed strongly that the lifestyle was unhealthy and unnatural as was taught to her, had nothing against the gays she had met. If Miguel decided he wanted automail from this shop, she wouldn't stop him unless she found good reason not to trust the man. "You want to look inside?" she asked the young cripple, who nodded. She gulped and held the door open for him.

"Well look here, Winry, I declare you do have your first customer!" The voice was undeniably male, and yet--it had such inflection in it that was limited entirely to females of the bubbly, glittery persuasion, Rose could only conclude that this was the Garfiel in command of the shop. But who was Winry?

As she thought about this, a large, black-haired and lip-sticked head poked out from behind a wall and disappeared. There were mutterings of increasing volume behind it too, and then all at once a hairy, muscular arm Rose identified with the head pushed out a very blond, pretty, and nervous young woman, who cleared her throat twice and held out her hand to shake. "Hello," she said, smiling. "I'm Winry Rockbell, and welcome to the shop. Is there anything I can do for you?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Hiromu Arakawa owns the manga series Fullmetal Alchemist, and quite frankly she's doing a much better job with it than I could ever do.

I know the genre says that this story is humor and something else like general or friendship, and I had a really hard time with that. The whole idea of this AU, separate plot using the original timeline template, was supposed to be an adventure story, but then there was the stressing of alliances being made with people who never meet actually which made it friendship, and then there was the notion that I might put some good old-fashioned angst in there as well. I decided that calling it adventure would be too extreme, that there aren't friendships so much as there are convenient alliances, and that you can't have honest humor if there's somebody whining and bleeding their heart out the whole time (then again...). So I'll just stick with humor and general...for now. P. S.: I know Ling comes off as a bit snobby in this chapter, but it's from Mei's POV.

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How long had it been since that frenzied night of Hughes' death? Hawkeye remembered it as a terrifying blur now. So many faces, long and whipping back and forth in the confusion, that she couldn't recognize when she tried to recall them. The Colonel's face, stricken and pale white as she never wanted to see it, flashed through her mind in the recollection. All that was past now, but not forgotten. It resulted in the entire team, including herself, making the daring move to Central.

When Colonel Mustang had laid out the reasons for the move, there were no objections, but she didn't think the full force of the idea had hit them until they actually moved. Falman and Fuery were comfortable living in the available dorms, but Hawkeye preferred renting her own room, so there was a bit more work for her during the first few days. She'd found a quaint apartment with all the essential rooms (each of which might as well have been three by three wide) and thought it was cozy, then realized she hadn't bought groceries yet and decided to take advantage of her day off. Walking down the street, she found herself wishing she had some sort of time-consuming hobby.

In the alley she passed by, two eyeholes glowed as the gaping mask of the suit of armor emerged from the blackness. Hawkeye gave no sign that she heard the clank, and ascertained that both her guns were within easy access.

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"So, Miguel, was it?" asked Winry amiably, measuring the boy's stump of a left leg. "Where are you from? It looks like you've come a long way, like me." She waited politely, but he only stared back with his head to one side. Rose knew that when he did that he meant to seem mute _and_ deaf, and probably stupid too.

"We've come from Liore, which is a little north-east," she answered the young mechanic. "It's a small town that's surrounded by desert, so there aren't a lot of business people who aim for us. We have a hard time finding a doctor, usually, so you can imagine how long we had to look for an automail mechanic. When we found him, he said that performing surgery on Miguel would be out of his league, and told us Miguel's best hope would be to head for the centre of automail. So we got a map and took trains all the way. We only overshot once, but it turned out all right, huh?" She smiled at Miguel, who wasn't taking the hint to act more friendly. She turned to the window and frowned. "Actually Liore is in a state of decay right now, and I'm really worried about how things are going over there. I want to head back soon, but there's Miguel here, and I don't have enough money to pay for his leg _and_ a ticket all the way home."

Winry wrote down the measurements on the clipboard like Garfiel had told her to. "Why don't you stick around here for a while, get a job till you can afford for the both of you to get back home?"

"Both of us? Oh, no, Miguel said he's not coming back."

"Really?" Winry squinted at the youth, who pretended pick his nose. "So it's not that he can't talk so much as he doesn't want to. Hey there, kiddo, you got something against me?" Miguel stared hard at the window and bent to tie his one shoe. "Well, Rose-san, how do you expect him to make money on his own?"

Rose's eyes twinkled. "You'll see soon enough."

This confused her, but she decided not to press the matter further. "So what do you mean Liore is in a state of decay?"

"Um, let's see...a little while ago, a priest of Leto showed up claiming to perform miracles in the name of the Sun God Leto. Everyone followed the man without question, but a few months ago he was exposed for a fraud by an alchemist named Edward Elric."

Winry perked up. "You know Ed?" From that moment on Miguel was left to his own devices as Rose heard all gossip possible to be heard about the diminutive alchemist. It only took about fifteen minutes, but Rose felt her ears ringing. "Anyway," Winry finished, "he dropped me off here and headed with his brother Al and a friend of his from the military toward Dublith. He should be there about now."

"Hm," said Rose. "I've heard a little bit about Dublith. It's a small town, but it has a good education system and a lot of kids." At Winry's nonchalantly curious look, she added, "I know because I'm interested in that line of work. It's like how you knew what Rush Valley was. Dublith, huh..." She looked serious again. "Miguel, I'm sorry, but I'm going to pay them for your leg and then head toward that town. I promise to come back in a few months to see if you want to go back to Liore. If anything happens before then...um, hm... Hey Winry, do you have the phone number for this shop?" Winry gave her a business card Garfiel kept by the cash register—so professionally—and Rose said, "If anything happens to you, I'll feel it and call this place, and you'll feel it and come to this place. So in the meantime, find a place to stay and keep out of trouble."

Without so much as a wave goodbye, she laid down more than enough money for the automail leg on the counter and went out the door. She went so quickly that she didn't notice Scar standing inconspicuously by the window. He had, of course, heard everything.

_Dublith, hm?_ He would be sure to travel in a separate cart.

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Dublith, as a matter of fact, did have a very fine education system. But because it was summertime, it was not put to use except for the preschools and private daycares. But Ed, Al, Sheska and Paninya were the last people to look for this aspect of the small, easygoing town. Ed and Al were shivering so much about what could happen when they showed up in front of their Teacher again that Paninya had begun to focus all her energy into milking the subject for all it was worth. "Aw, you'll be fine, as long as you don't mind having three metal limbs instead of two, Ed."

"Quit it, you dolt. You don't even know what you're talking about." The almighty Fullmetal didn't even have his heart in making up insults, because he was so busy imagining the reliving of past lessons. He gave a shudder as his brother reached down and put a handless glove on his shoulder.

"Brother, maybe we should tell them to... I mean, you know what could happen."

"Whadaya mean?" said Ed disbelievingly. "We've only brought them along so far so they could help prevent that."

"You know as well as I do that no one can stop her. Not even witnesses." Ed started to say something, but instead let out the wordless air through puffy, pouting cheeks. "It's the inevitable, and maybe we deserve it... especially you, with all the terrible things you've been saying to Winry and them all this time."

"Oh, shut up." But he sighed, defeated. "Listen, you two." He waited for the giggling to stop. "Hey _quiet_, you morons! Look. I know you haven't met our Teacher yet, but to me and Al the threat is very real. So it's not like we're worried about you guys or anything, but just—it'd be better if you'd just—"

"What Brother is trying to say is, maybe it would be best if you two would check out the town for a while until it's safe."

Sheska and Paninya looked at each other, back at Al, and shrugged. "Okay," they said together. "Maybe you should give us the address so we can meet back with you guys in a few hours," added Sheska. Al pulled out a piece of paper from a notebook he kept inside himself and scribbled it out, then realized he didn't know which one of them to hand it to. Sheska was responsible, but was known for being clumsy and apt at losing small things. And Paninya was, of course, a thief, but she probably had made a habit of making sure that the little but valuable things she stole stuck with her.

"Paninya, here you go. You can't miss it, trust me, even though it's a bit ordinary." He looked cautiously toward Sheska, but she didn't seem offended. As he waved them off cheerfully, he bent to nearly Ed's level and said, "Brother, let's just get this over with."

"Yeah," said the older brother grimly, golden eyes beginning to dull in fearful expectation. He turned and began an earnest stalking down the street.

"Brother, that's the wrong way."

"Yeah..."

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Mei Chan and Xiao Mei were stuck in the desert. Mei knew which direction was west, but there was a sandstorm going on that prevented her from moving. All she could do was use the Purification Arts to make an underground tunnel so they were safe from the course sands beating them. After all, she felt a certain responsibility for Xiao Mei. It warmed her, to think that she was needed and taken seriously by someone in the world.

There were many people who didn't take her seriously at all. That was partly the reason adding to her reason for leaving Xing on the quest; because of her size, or lack thereof, she was often overlooked. Mei Chan couldn't count the exact number of occasions in which this happened, but there were a loathed few which persisted in her mind word for word, urging her on for vengeance. She would show them! She would accomplish a feat so tremendous that it would eclipse the past humiliations, and all those who inflicted them upon her.

One such event stuck with her clear as the condensed sand walls surrounding her. She had been in line to gain permission from the officials to pursue her mission in Amestris. There was a fee for some sort of passport, and she had been saving up for it for quite some time, so she was very excited. She had turned to Xiao Mei while waiting, in a conspiring manner, whispering about how she imagined their plans to fold out, when a boy older than her, a masked girl his age, and an elderly man with a mask complementing the girl's took advantage of the space that opened up when Mei failed to notice the line moving up, and cut in front of her. Now, cutting in lines was not uncommon, but she hadn't expected it to happen in this somewhat more dignified setting, and least of all to her of all people. Her only choice was to seethe quietly and whisper in a louder tone to Xiao Mei, making sure to use a complaining tone as to hint to the offenders, who paid her no attention.

When the teenager (she was now at the age where she could more or less estimate the ages of these strange creatures who weren't grown-ups or children; before, she had honestly doubted they were human) with the ponytail held by a small ribbon bow reached the counter, Mei assumed he would be done fairly quickly, and that the two masked people were his servants. Therefore her turn wasn't far off. But it turned out that the bowed youth had forgotten to fill out a certain form, so the clerk made him to fill one out right at the counter. This took about five minutes, with several clarifications between him, his servants and the clerk. Then when he had finally finished with the sheet, he handed it over to the clerk, who smiled graciously and told him that the estimated time it would take for processing would be about six months.

"Six months!" exclaimed the unusually squinty-eyed youth (his eyes were indeed abnormally narrow even in Xingan terms). He brought his hand to his mouth to calm down, then said, "I'm sorry but I can't wait that long. I have to be on my way by the end of this week."

The clerk laughed, then stopped at the boy's scathing mien. "Sir, you cannot expect for a form at this level to go through the system that quickly. This is a legal document between two countries. My condolences, but..." The youth began to argue with him, and the clerk argued back, both of their voices raising so the squabble could be heard from the end of the line and a security officer asked if there was any trouble. "None, thank you," replied the clerk snippily. "And Mr. Ling Yao, if you are not going to submit your document, then kindly step out of line."

Mei gasped and covered her mouth hurriedly in the much of same manner the now identified upper prince had. Ling Yao! This person standing in front of her was the twelfth in line for the throne. What would someone of his status be doing in a place like this? She glanced at Xiao Mei and widened her eyes at the realization. Of course! He had been thinking along the same lines as herself. He was planning to travel to Amestris in order to find the secret to buying the emperor's favor—the secret to immortality!

The prince complied with the clerk's suggestion politely but grudgingly, the two masked servants flanking him as if trying to give him back a regal appearance. The clerk then turned to Mei. "Can I help you, Miss?"

"Oh, actually no, sorry." She couldn't afford to wait that long either, even if a passport would help with getting into Amestris. She told herself reassuringly that she could probably get in past the guards anyway: the old fashioned way.

But this was a drawback. It seemed she had competition for her goal. Her only choice was to confront the matter while it sat before her. She gulped. Ling Yao was _twelfth_ in line; with much more power at his disposal, if she didn't intone her words correctly he could make short work of her, and even worse, make trouble for her clan. Xiao Mei nudged her chin up. Mei acknowledged the encouragement appreciatively, and handed the panda a piece of candy. Xiao Mei was right; she had to have the willpower to achieve what she needed to.

Outside the building doors, the prince was consulting with his servants closely, possibly reassessing their options. Mei Chan swung the tinted glass door open forcefully and took a wide, firm stance to the left of the three of them. "Thought you could get ahead of me, did you?" she barked.

Unfortunately, in Ling's perspective, the challenge came out as a squeak. "And you are?" he asked, nonplussed.

"I am Mei of the Chan clan," snapped the petite Purification Arts specialist, "and I will attain the secret of immortality before you do, on my honor!"

One of the masked servants, the one with her hood up, shifted her weight into a defensive stance, standing in front of the prince and holding up a kunai. "Shall I kill her, Master?"

"Prepare to meet your maker!" But she detected a quaver in her voice.

Prince Ling of the Yao clan shook his head. "Geez, I'd feel like a big bully then. Look Ranfan, she attacks on her own; she must be in a tougher situation than us. Probably one of the lower princesses." He turned his back on her. "Let's go."

Mei's jaw dropped in indignance. "Don't ignore me!" The hooded and elderly guards began to follow him slowly. "I am a major political threat and expect to be treated as such!" Mei roared. She knew she was pushing her luck; they could turn around and attack her anyway. But she had to defend her clan at any cost.

She heard the elderly guard mutter to the prince, "Sir, it's true she is very young, but we cannot underestimate any enemy. Not now."

Ling looked back at her, exchanged glances with the guard, and smirked at her over his shoulder. "Why don't you just go home and play with your cat there? What you plan to attempt is too far out of your league anyway. Don't worry though; I promise to be kind to the Chan clan when I take the throne." And with that, he dismissed her and strode off, guards in tow.

On her shoulder, Xiao Mei shivered with rage at the disgrace to her protector. That settled it. Now she was definitely getting to Amestris, and there was no stopping her. She made a solemn oath to herself that from that point on, she would always press forward.

Huddled in her makeshift sand shelter, still stranded, Mei remembered the encounter with injured pride and justified fury. "That's right Xiao Mei," she said to the panda, taking out her rations and distributing them equally between them. "I can't ever give up. I will make sure our clan's name is not further disgraced!"

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Sheska and Paninya, after splitting up with the Elric brothers, had immediately begun wandering around aimlessly. First they went to find a place for fun, but they couldn't agree on anything, so then they went to see about something to eat. Paninya suggested curry, of course, but Sheska said that she couldn't possibly eat something so outrageously spicy. Then Sheska spotted a nice noodle shop, but Paninya said she wasn't in the mood for something so wimpy; she wanted 'substance'.

Finally they saw a shop selling a food neither of them had eaten before. "What did you say they called this stuff?" asked Paninya nervously.

"Pizza, they call it." Sheska peeked through the window at some examples advertised in posters. "It resembles okonomiyaki, sort of, but from what I've heard about it the two taste nothing alike." Some of the older people inside were opening their napkins and laying them on their slices. When they took them off, there was a noticeable amount of grease staining each one. "It looks unhealthy."

"Junkfood is my middle name," said Paninya enthusiastically. Evidently she was convinced that that was all the proof she needed. Sheska made a face to her. "Aw, please Sheska? The worst that could happen is you not liking it."

"Or I could become fatally addicted to it," muttered Sheska, watching one of the few obese women she had seen in Amestris waddle out of the establishment. Silently she corrected herself, apologizing for such callous judgment of another person like her mother would tell her to.

Paninya was determined now to try the strange food. She was curious, and that meant she was going to get her way no matter what. "Come on, Sheska, let's just try it! Everybody else who's tried it seems to love it!" She was so persistent and persuasive about it that eventually they did indeed end up going inside and ordering a plain old traditional pepperoni pizza slice each. They were enormous, steaming, and the cheese spilled over the edges. Paninya gulped in the smell and rated it approvingly.

"All right, on three," said Sheska, picking up the oily mass cautiously, Paninya doing the same with an expression saying she thought all this fuss was very foolish but funny. "One, two, three."

It was an explosion of gleaming euphoria inside her mouth. She gave pause and let the oil soak her tongue. She chewed the bite and sucked on the lump that formed, creating a ball of dough, cheese and just the right amount of spice so that it wasn't unbearable. Such a miraculous blend of flavors... she put a hand to her eye and realized that it was watering. She whimpered in undulated pleasure. "I was a fool for not trying this earlier," she admitted to Paninya. But the former thief was flushed with bliss, and not in the mood for conversation. It was an eat first, talk later affair.

Sheska was tempted to buy a full one of them, but unhappily concluded that she had to use her remaining money wisely. After finishing up, they paid and left reluctantly, sighing and looking back often. "That was awesome," said Paninya, eyes closed.

"Mm," agreed Sheska. Then she remembered that they had to meet the Elrics. How long had they been walking around? It had at least been a couple of hours. "Hey Paninya, you think we should start to head toward Ed and Al's teacher's place?"

Paninya perked up. "Oh yeah, I'd almost forgotten!" She beamed malevolently. "I can't wait to see the damage on that pint-sized snotty-head. So where is it, anyway?" Sheska looked at her, and she snapped her fingers, chuckling. "Yes, I know I've got it." She reached into her the top of her shirt and pulled out the slip of paper Al had given her. Sheska studied it over her shoulder. "It does look like a nice address. But how are we to get there? Should we get a map?"

Sheska looked at her in horror. "Please no. Whenever I use a map it turns out... well, how about we call it getting undesirable results. Why don't we use the number, see? We'll find the forty-second street and then ask for directions to, um, 'Blargh' Avenue."

And that's exactly what they did. They started at 43rd street, so all they had to do was go down one and then walk along to the nearest fellow pedestrian to ask for directions. These didn't turn out as well; they had to go fifteen blocks down before reaching the designated avenue, and then they began the quest for the address of the butcher shop. They stopped a passing man with a cane. He smiled and told them, "Just go down that way a ways and you'll come across it on a corner. You can't miss it. You'll know which one it is because of the giant sign." They stared confusedly at him, but he chuckled and went on his way.

Sure enough, when they reached the corner the first thing they noticed was a humble butcher shop. As Al had told them, it was ordinary in every way except for the reason you couldn't miss it; the bold, capitalized title of the establishment. "MEAT."

Sheska stood still at the door, wondering just why the Elrics had bidden them to stay away for some time. Was it dangerous? Paninya, however, marched right in. Sheska took her arm. "What if they don't want us here yet?"

"Well then we'll just pretend we're customers or something. We'll wing it." She marched right in, the notoriously nervous librarian making herself scarce behind her. A bell positioned at the top of the door rang loudly as they entered, and a thickly muscled, clean-shaven man poked his head out from the door behind the counter.

"Sorry, we're closed at the moment," said the man cheerfully. "We've got visitors, see."

Paninya brightened. Abandoning her previous plan of posing as a customer, she asked, "Oh really? Would they happen to be a certain Ed and Al Elric?"

"Do you two know them?"

Sheska explained that they were traveling companions and had arranged to meet there. The man introduced himself as Mason and cheerfully told them they could probably come inside after him. "We were just finishing up dinner," he chattered easily, lifting up the bar at the counter to allow them in, "So I hope you've eaten already, because the master Curtis doesn't treat freeloaders lightly." The two girls exchanged glances, beginning to get edgy about meeting this Teacher of sorts.

Coming into the room they saw a plain but spacious round table laden with many bowls filled with soup and very much meat, as was expected from a butcher family. Ed and Al were as far to one side as they could be, the younger brother hunched close. They were conversing easily enough, but Sheska got the feel that they were choosing their words carefully. On the other side (that is, on the other side of Mason's empty chair) were two grown-ups they took to be the Curtis'. The husband was a bull of a man, huge, with a build like a bear and a fixed, intense expression on his face. His wife was lovely in the way a mother is; she was slim and fit, and though she had a kindly, smooth voice, there was a stern aura about her. She was stern like a teacher would be, thought Sheska in recognition.

But Paninya was stumped. "Huh, I can't tell which of them is their Teacher," she whispered out of the side of her mouth to Sheska. Standing up straight at the sudden stare of the couple, she said cordially, "Hello! I'm Paninya and this is Sheska. I'm sure Ed and Al completely forgot to tell you about us, but we're friends of theirs. It's nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Curtis."

"Hello," said Mrs. Curtis with equal politeness, her husband nodding in acknowledgment. "Yes, they did manage to leave you out of their stories." She cast a swift glare towards the brothers, who flinched and gripped their seats. "Here, did you both already eat? I'm afraid there's not much left here, so we were just talking. Mason, do you think there's enough room for two more chairs...?"

For the rest of the evening they sat, talked and laughed, Sheska telling jokes she'd read in a comedian's memoir and Paninya prattling on about the latest gossip from Rush Valley. It had passed eleven when they were told to go upstairs with Ed and Al to go to sleep, supplied with a pillow and wool blanket each. They took different sides of the small bare room, Sheska and Paninya's feet touching each other's. The brunette bookworm gazed out the window at the streetlight beyond the glass, thinking of how far she had gotten already, and how she was to carry out her mission. The next day, she would have to get back out there and _talk_ to people, a great many of them if it proved to be more of a difficult task than she had estimated. She sighed and turned her back on the window, then noticed something.

"Hey Ed, I've been meaning to ask you this, but where on earth did you get those nasty bruises from? Are you all right?"

"...I'd rather not talk about it."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Nope. Don't own FMA. Could you imagine doing all of those pages every month? And using all those screen tones on Al would be such a pain!

Okay, guess what everybody who's reading this but isn't reviewing? I've finally figured out how this is going to end! I've got it all plotted out in an outline, sort of. Only it's a pretty open ending in the off chance that anybody wants me to continue it. By 'open' I don't mean that it ends on a cliffhanger, I mean it could go in several directions after that point but it would be hard for me to make up a sturdy plot where everyone is included. By the way, can't wait till April! The first anime sucked after the first half, but hopefully they'll stick to the manga this time.

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They had been at the Curtis' for almost a week now, and somehow, every day Sheska seemed to detect more and more bruises on Ed, usually after what Mrs. Curtis told her was their work out session. Paninya told her that sometimes when she passed by the room with all the equipment she could hear screaming, thuds, and metal clanging as she suspected Al was thrown across the room. Apparently Mrs. Izumi Curtis was a violent person, but whenever she was around Sheska and other customers she had an infinitely calm demeanor, so she didn't have any reason to be edgy like the Elrics.

She was just washing the dishes so that she wouldn't feel so guilty when the elder Elric brother burst out of the work out room and made a dash for his suitcase, tossing clothes into it hurriedly. Al rushed to his aid, and Izumi followed at a much slower pace. She stopped and picked up the phone, dialing calculatingly. "Great," she said in an optimistic voice, face unchanged, "this is a perfect opportunity for you to quit being the military's dog."

"Stop!" said Ed pleadingly. "I've been meaning to get to one of the headquarters anyway, sure have!" Al finished making sure Ed has his toothbrush and handed over the suitcase. "Thanks. I should be back in a couple of days, so, see you then!" and he was off.

Paninya looked at Al questioningly, chewing her sandwich. "He forgot about the annual state alchemist's exam, so he's heading to the nearest headquarters. Like he said, he'll be back in a couple of days." He caught sight of Izumi looking dissatisfied and put his glove to his chin thoughtfully. "But you know, he might forget something. I should go to look after him!" He lunged towards the door, but Izumi caught him by the long trailing—what was that thing, anyway? Sheska thought.

"Hold it," she said with a wide smile, cracking her knuckles. "You're going to stay here and spar with me." With that, she dragged him back wailing to the workout room.

Mason popped his head into the kitchen. "You ladies wanna go shopping for us?" Paninya took another bite.

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Rose arrived at Dublith with a little less certainty about what she was doing. She really was interested in pursuing a career in education, but what if she was wrong about leaving Miguel all alone? Or what if she forgot what she wanted to say when she met up with the Elrics again? There wouldn't have been any point.

Anyway, now she had to figure out how she was going to survive down here, since she was officially out of money after she had bought the more expensive candy that tasted exactly the same as regular candy from the train. The obvious course of action would be to get a job, but she didn't know how long it would take to find one. Plus, where would she stay while she worked? It wasn't exactly as if there was some barn to sneak in every night.

She began wandering around the town, taking in the homey smells and thick atmosphere with delight. It was a feeling nearly identical to Liore, and it made Rose feel more rooted, firm, to see that there were plenty of shops and fences and mothers and most importantly children, because children were proof to her that it was a town that was real and alive. She thought, munching on the last of her candy bar. She had told the young and enthusiastic automail mechanic Winry Rockbell that she was interested in the education line of work, but she had no previous experience, just babysitting.

Still, it was her best shot, so she meandered around till she found the town square, where she could ask for a directory on local daycares and inns. Once she had gotten a sizable list from the phonebook the secretary at the front desk had given her, she began looking for the closest ones there. Three out of three of the first ones she visited already were overstaffed, and she hadn't gone to an inn because she didn't want to stay somewhere she couldn't afford. Discouraged, she found a bench and promptly fell into it, unintentionally beating an elderly man to it. Soon she would begin to tire, and then there was no telling how she'd get her next meal.

Suddenly she was aware of two young women sliding into the bench next to her. The one nearest her was a jovial Aerugan girl with overalls, a low ponytail, and a bag of chips, which she held away from her companion in a teasingly stubborn manner. She stuck out her tongue and abruptly proffered one chip to Rose. "Here, do _you_ like sour cream and onion flavor?" she asked insistently. Rose nodded and took it gratefully. "See Sheska, at least somebody doesn't have jacked up taste buds."

"I wouldn't have given you the money to buy that if you'd told me it'd be this flavor," said Sheska in disgust. "Oh well. At least it wasn't barbeque."

The Aerugan's eyes widened and she snapped her fingers in frustration. "Dammit, I shoulda looked for those instead!"

"Um, excuse me," said Rose tentatively. "But would you two happen to know where this daycare center is?"

"Oh, we're not from around here, sorry," said Sheska. "Are you job hunting?"

Rose answered that yes, she was, and when asked she further explained that she hailed from Liore, that she was hoping to be involved in the field of education, and that the reason she couldn't look in her own hometown was because there were too many stressful things going on because of the revolt started up by a certain Fullmetal Alchemist, the mentioning of whom sparked a whole new topic. She then was made to listen to their stories, and how they had gotten here, and where Edward was now. She was disappointed to hear that he wasn't in town, but determined she would have a word with him when he returned. "Why d'ya wanna see him so bad, huh?" asked Paninya cheekily, waggling her pinky finger in indication.

She laughed. "It's nothing like that, I'll tell you right now, although I've a feeling you'll believe what you want. He nearly destroyed my faith, and I want to prove to him that it's possible to live the way he told me to and with the ideas I've been raised with. I just want to prove him wrong, and see the look on his face."

Sheska stole a chip while Paninya was distracted and popped it in her mouth, wincing. "You know, I'm pretty sure that lady whose daughter's cat died is starting to run a daycare center for her daughter and the neighborhood kids. She seemed nice enough; I'm sure she'd help you out."

Rose was unsure, but Paninya agreed, and once she decided the Liorite needed her help, there was no way anything Rose said could stop her. She ended up being hauled off toward a quieter district, where somehow she had least expected them to reside.

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It had been a cruel mistake, a horrendous err in judgment on the Colonel's part, to trust the maniacal former butcher-murderer in Warrant Officer Falman's custody. Or if looked at a more scrutinizing perspective, it was a _trick,_ courtesy of the Flame Alchemist Colonel Roy Mustang. He should have seen it coming even while he offered his services so vaguely, but who could ever predict what the Colonel would do?

Barry the Chopper sat on a lawn chair, hollow head in equally hollow glove, other glove holding up a novel Falman had given him to keep him occupied. He gave occasional snorts and snickers, mocking the contents of it under his breath. Sometimes these gave way to his full garish laughter. "Gyahahaha!" he laughed, turning the last page and snapping the book shut.

"What was so funny about it?" Falman asked curiously. Part of him was sincerely curious, but most of him was feeling depressed that the quiet hours were over.

"_Well_," said Barry airily. Falman rolled his eyes, suddenly not wanting an explanation. "See, the main guy here was supposed to be this serial killer, right? The back says that the author pulled out his character from real live serial killers he had seen in the federal prison. But when you really read what the guy's supposed to be thinking while he's at it, it's _pathetic_."

Falman raised an eyebrow, eyelids still halfway closed. "How so?" he asked, now indulgent.

"I mean it's pathetic how the author thinks we think. The guy is supposed to be going around killing people slowly and artistically, planning everything by learning everything about the chumps who get taken out, from the time they get up to the time they get home from work. Whatever! No, that's how newbies do things, you know. A real killer who's serious about what he's doing isn't serious at all. Exhibit A, moi," he said, whacking his own chest. "The author made it out so that the guy was all freaking poetic about it, too. Geez. It just gives us real murderers a bad name."

Falman shook his head, smiling despite himself. "I'll never understand the likes of you, Barry."

"You betcha you won't," replied the cleaver-wielding suit of armor. "Now pull out that chess set and I'll whoop your ass again."

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Ranfan first took out the watch-guard posted in the tower at the border, then used his binoculars to scout out what kind of security she, her grandfather, and the prince were up against. Judging by the guard lying senseless and gagged on the ground, it wasn't much. There were only three other towers in sight, and she had control of the one on the end. On ground level there was no further blockage. She sneered slightly. If all the borders were this easily hopped over, it was no wonder they had so many immigrants from Creta coming in.

Putting the binoculars in her pack for future use, she took out her mirror and signaled toward the place where the prince and her grandfather were waiting concealed in the cover made by night, making sure to do so only when the guard in the tower next to her was preoccupied. A few minutes later a grappling hook she recognized as her grandfather's caught on the edge, and the prince came up, Fu bringing up the rear. "That's it?" said Ling when she made her report. "I didn't think it'd be this easy. What a load of crap all that fuss was about the passport."

"Sir," said Fu, "If you remember, that day there was a lower princess threatening your life."

"Oh, please," said Ling, not meaning to be rude. He sighed.

"It also seemed as if she was after the same thing we are," Fu continued patiently. "Why else would she be in line for a passport? If she makes it across the desert..."

Ling chuckled. "I don't think she's a real threat to our mission. She was only what, ten years old? If we meet her again, we'll gather any information she's managed to scrape up, if any, and then we'll let her on her way. It's not possible that she poses a true threat," he said again, looking at Fu reassuringly. "For now, let's get into that town and grab some chow. I'm starving!"

"These are the Youswell Mines," reminded Ranfan. "It's not uncommon for miners to be walking around on the nightshift, so we should probably be careful. Maybe you sh—could hide somewhere and we'll bring food back to you."

"Oh come on," whined Ling. "Nah, Ranfan, I think I'll come along. I'm sick of watching you two going off on your own and me having to wait like some pompous noble. Let's go!" He slid down the ladder, Fu and Ranfan following with worry.

They concluded the night with seven hotdogs, one box of sushi, three onigiri, and dozens of cans of peaches, peas and green beans. Ling thought it was a good score considering how an alarm was set off and the man of a house tried chasing after them. He hadn't been too bad, either; he made it down half the block before Fu knocked him out with the blunt end of a kunai. As they gobbled away at the new rations, a thought occurred to Ranfan. "Prince," she said pensively, "Have you planned where we are to search first?"

Ling's hand, laden with green beans, halted nearly up to his mouth. Ranfan and Fu stared. Ling grinned sheepishly.

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It was morning, and in the Curtis household, that meant flaring tempers, waning patience, and maybe a suit of armor flying out the window. Sheska woke up feeling relatively good. Last night Paninya and herself had done a good deed, leading the very sweet Rose Thomas to the house of Izumi Curtis' neighbor. Ms. Thomas was even being allowed to stay in a spare room of the generous lady's house, so there was no problem with food. Paninya had promised a visit soon, the idea of which the Liorite didn't quite take to immediately.

Today was the day, she said to herself, rolling off her makeshift futon, standing slowly and folding her blanket loosely, placing it ceremoniously at the place where her head was. Today she would carry out her mission. She had been putting it off for so long, it had almost been a week now, and it was supposed to be done as quickly as possible, like everything was done in the military (save paperwork). Running her fingers lightly over the weak wooden rail, she klunked down the stairs clumsily and made her way to the kitchen. Paninya was there, spooning an unholy amount of sugar into her cereal. Sheska watched her, disgusted and fascinated. She noticed it was the plain old Berry Bran in the bowl. "What are you doing?" she cried as the younger girl raised the spoon to her lips. "It's supposed to be eaten the way it is!"

"It tastes gross until you put a little sweetness in it."

"You're overcompensating! This is pollution!" Izumi trudged into the kitchen, a pair of uncharacteristically fluffy slippers saving her feet from peril by cold floor. "Good morning, Mrs. Curtis," said Sheska.

Izumi blinked and remembered to smile. "No such thing," she said in her voice of stone, sliding to the toaster. "But how are you? Do you have any plans for today, or are you just gonna sit around on your ass like you have been so far?"

The former librarian gasped. She knew it! "I'm so sorry! Actually though, yes, today I'm going to do my mission. First I have to get to a directory. Would you happen to have a phonebook?" Izumi opened the Junk Drawer, rummaged through it, and made as if to pitch the thick book at her, then thought better of it and laid it on the table across from Paninya. "Thank you very much," said Sheska, wondering if the master alchemist had for a second believed she could actually catch the thing.

Paninya munched noisily on the cereal, as with everything else (she could make yogurt sound crunchy). "Where are you going? Can I come with?"

"I'm going to a bar." Paninya perked up. "And no, it's probably best if you didn't. It's going to be my first mission as an investigative private of the military. Anyway, how old are you?" she asked curiously, but in a stern tone.

"Twenty last June," replied the younger woman. "And you're twenty-three since last January." At Sheska's surprised face, she laughed and held out the identification card that had a small picture in the right hand corner of a very nervous and red-faced woman with staticky brown hair. "Saw it in your bag. I was planning on giving it back; what would _I_ do with it?"

Sheska let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, maybe you can come if you want to," she muttered, scribbling down the address in a small notepad she carried in her jacket pocket. "But! you have to be quiet, okay? And don't expect me to buy alcohol."

"Aw! What the heck is that! No fair!" As the two unlikely friends started on their way, Izumi shook her head and was thankful it wasn't so loud usually.

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They had received the mission informally as usual. Whenever the Boss needed something done that wasn't important, he would complain about it mostly. But when he needed something done that was important or serious (which wasn't often) he made it seem like no big deal. There had been quite a few murders of competition that had been the work of Loa, Dorchette, and Martel, and it wasn't because the Boss couldn't do it himself. He had proven himself to the Devil's Nest gang as a more than capable leader many times. The fact was, the Boss was a bit lazy, and preferred to have things done by other people so he could spend his time more on himself. After all, he was greedy for time, too.

Loa ran through the facts on the target before he started them thinking on a plan. The Boss had told them to get him over to the bar, by any means necessary that didn't kill him or his brother. This meant that they had practically unlimited creative freedom. Unfortunately Loa's strong point had never been creativity, ditto Dorchette and Martel. That was why they had been soldiers.

Let's see, he thought. Our target is the younger Elric brother, who has a suit of armor for a body and therefore does not eat, sleep, or feel pain. He is also known to be the better hand-to-hand combatant, although he does use alchemy when he has time. "We should be careful," he said aloud.

"Why?" snorted Dorchette. "Just how old is this guy supposed to be? Remember what that guy who was there at the state alchemist murderer accident said? The older brother was super short, but he's fifteen right now. The younger brother might be like, thirteen or something. It should be a cinch." He took out his pipe but frowned and patted his pockets for matches.

"We shouldn't let our guard down," said Martel, taking a swig of whiskey. "Even if he is just a kid, he's smart enough to do alchemy, so he might have some tricks up his sleeve."

Dorchette found his matches in the pocket on his thigh. He struck one and lit his pipe. "If you're so worried about one little brat, then I guess we could find a way to trick him instead. Make some master plan."

"No," grunted Loa. "It's best we do it head-on and straightforward; that way we can get it over with."

Just then Bido, a sort of lizard chimera who had brought the news that the Elric brothers were in Dublith to the Boss, and was proud about it too, strode in as best he could with his short legs and gigantic in scale tail dragging behind. Dorchette reached over and tugged him over by his hood. "Hey there, buddy," he said sarcastically to the place where Bido should have had an ear, because no one really paid much attention to the lizard chimera except to chide him. "How'd you like to help us out on our _mission_ for Greed?"

"I just helped out, what are you saying!" squealed Bido. "Are you tricking me?"

"Dorchette, quit it," said Martel. She leaned over with her hands on her knees to his eyelevel. "We're not gonna make you do any gymnastics. Just help us out with something simple. It's a follow-up of what you did already."

"Whaddaya gonna do?"

Loa stood and loomed over the smaller chimera. "We've decided to do something simple, the old-fashioned way. You deliver this note to the suit of armor you saw and we'll take it from there."

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It took Sheska and Paninya three quarters of an hour to find the Devil's Nest. First they had to get in the right district, and then there was the trouble with the street is was supposedly on. Sheska kept peering closely at the address she had written down from the phonebook, disbelieving. "It says 713 That Street." At first her companion had been vastly amused by this, but it had become less of a joke and more of an aggravation for Sheska. For the fifth time she found herself stifling a scream as she tried to pry directions out of a knowing, but teasing resident of the district. "No, I'm looking for That Street."

"Which street are you looking for?"

"That Street!"

"Yes, dear, but which one?"

"Argh!" growled the normally peaceable bookworm, throwing her hands up in surrender. The woman stranger smiled sardonically and hurried jovially on her way. "I'm beginning to think this is impossible. Maybe we could try again later on; it's only noon right now."

Paninya handed her a calming lollipop she had swiped from a bank office. Sheska pushed it away, not in the mood. "Aw come on, it can't be that hard. At least it wasn't on 'This Street', you know. 'Do you know how to get on This Street?' 'Whadaya mean? We're on this one, okay!' Hahahaha!" She only received a tired glare. "Let's change tactics." She turned to a passing rough-looking fellow. "Heya, d'ya know where somebody could find a joint by the name of the Devil's Nest?"

"Yes, you could go one block down that way, and then turn left for approximately three blocks. There is quite a large sign, so I am sure you will have no trouble locating it. Have a wonderful day," he said, and adjusting his trench coat and beanie to cover his features better, skip-hopped to his next appointment, leaving a stunned Sheska and Paninya in his wake.

"That was _hilarious_," said Paninya, completely rooted to the spot.

"Come on, let's go!" said Sheska, energy restored. They zoomed down the streets, dodging other pedestrians, and in only five minutes were standing at their goal. Like the man had said, there was a wide wooden sign posted above the entrance, with the telltale title "Devil's Nest" written in angular black paint. Three gangsters hung about the arch as security. Sheska gulped. "Er—"

"What're the likes of you's doing here?" said one of them, a young person with a sharp nose and a patterned button shirt.

Paninya stepped in front of the older, but more anxious woman. "What, can't a couple of girls get some drinks around here? Geez, and I'd heard so much about this place..."

The biggest of them, with big lips and bigger arms said, "Naw, it's fine. We're just here to keep off trouble."

"No trouble here!" squeaked Sheska, and the three men laughed. Paninya joined in a second into it, nudging Sheska's side. "You really couldn't pull this off without me, could you?" she whispered under her breath, winking.

"Go on in," said the third one, gesturing with one of his two automail arms. They did, Sheska gripping a strap of Paninya's overalls and wondering if she'd really be able to do this.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Obviously I'm not Hiromu Arakawa, as I can't pretend to have an iota of the genius she possesses in order to do what she does every single chapter; that is, give everybody the thrill of their lives and then manage to freak us out with such a cliffhanger so as to give us a heart attack. Oh yeah, and the cereals mentioned below are obviously Lucky Charms and Cheerios, which I also don't own.

I swear, every single chapter ends with an awesome cliffhanger! Last time Kimbley got chomped in the throat like he deserves, and this time, the whole Mustang chasing down the killer of Maes Hughes a.k.a. Envy subplot comes full circle! ...recently I've discovered I'm the queen of run-on sentences. Why exactly are they taboo in grammar? Come on! So they take a little extra time! Geez!

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The problem with suburban towns like Dublith was that unlike Central, Scar couldn't seem to find the obligatory group of homeless vagabonds roaming the streets to blend in with. In Central and East City there were so many of these instances that most people of solid dwellings had come to grow used to them. Another advantage was that since Amestris was such a diverse country to begin with, dark skin wasn't so unexpected as to persecute against; but one advantage specific to cities was that more minorities are drawn to the inner city, so an Ishballan's rusty brown skin could blend in perfectly, and indiscreetly.

Now as Scar trudged heavily down the streets of this small, smiling-to-only-insiders town, he felt more exposed than he had been during that loud time at East City, with all the soldiers and state alchemists circling him. He felt eyes bore through him from behind, some with innocent curiosity and some with acute suspicion. Constantly he was pulling down the hood of his sweater further, reminding himself that should anyone recognize him it could all be over before he found the target.

The Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric. There was no personal grudge involved. Scar didn't really know anything about the boy other than that he was older than his height would suggest, so there was no reason for sympathy to be due him. It was quite likely that he didn't even know what happened in the Ishballan genocide…Ishballan rebellion was what he'd probably been taught it was, Scar thought angrily. Few of the civilians of Amestris were told the truth about it, and as a result, of course they would explain to their children the reasons for the "war" that they'd come up with themselves. And the military public relations stressed the soldiers involved with it to go along with any outrageous stories friends speculated, whispering only to their own families the truth, and to keep it secret.

So it wasn't really the Fullmetal's fault. Scar felt no hatred toward the boy. The Fuhrer and the commanding part of the military were responsible for the participation of the state alchemists. They had nearly achieved total genocide of the Ishballan race. With that kind of weapon growing in number every year, no matter how slowly, soon there could be another systematic search and destroy; a devastation for both sides, to be sure, but if it happened again there might be no chance his people would survive. It was his duty, therefore, to make sure the Fuhrer got the message that the use of state alchemists would not go unapprehended. With one weapon being disposed of at a time, the goal of an unarmed Amestris was not possible yet, but it was _doing_ something, and it had to count.

In the meantime he would continue the search for the Fullmetal. He would ask any fellow homeless he saw before turning to regular pedestrians, but it was proving hard to find them. There must be a shelter or a soup kitchen nearby, he thought; in a town so small and tight-knit, those less fortunate must not be ignored so often. All he had to do was find it.

Passing by a small, rundown butcher shop, Scar glanced in through the window and narrowed his eyes. And at the moment, he ignored the small hobo of one hair peeking at him from the corner.

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"So what'll it be, sweetheart?"

Sheska jerked in her seat. "Er…" She hadn't planned out how the rest would exactly follow after she'd gotten in as she'd never expected to get in at all. And now here she was, sitting on a barstool, at the shadiest bar in town, and being asked to drown herself in the fermented pleasure liquid. Was this the standard procedure at a place like this? Show appreciation for the trade before doing business, right? She blanched; she'd forgotten to mention to Paninya that she'd never gotten drunk in public before. Beside her, Paninya wiggled in her stool, testing out to see how far it would swerve in each direction. Sheska prodded her silently, looking downward.

Paninya grinned widely at the bartender. "Oh, she doesn't feel quite up to it yet. Couldja get me a vodka on the rocks, though? Thanks."

"Sure thing."

Sheska tugged at the Aerugan's shirt when the man turned away. "Pst," she said, not meeting her eyes. "What does 'on the rocks' mean?" Was that some sort of slang for drugs that somehow made the alcohol more potent?

This time the grin given was true. "It just means I want ice in it." Sheska dropped her head slightly, disappointed.

The bartender came back and clunked a glass, which Sheska inspected thoroughly, in front of Paninya. He looked sideways at the mousy-haired girl. "You sure ya don't want anything?" She mumbled, hands fluttering in her lap. "What now?"

"Some…milk, maybe?" She said weakly. She heard a sharp gasp from Paninya and saw from the shadow on her right that she'd leaned her head into the counter and was looking sideways at her, eyes bulging no doubt. Straightening quickly, she found the bar-person's jaw was dropped, torso leaning on the counter. Clearly she had made a mistake. "Ah, no!" She stammered, searching for the means to amends. The etiquette here was a whole different system of its own. "A, um, a light beer…would be…nice," she pushed out.

Miraculously, after an awkward pause the bartender (whose name was Ethan) brightened his expression and headed to the back. "We usually don't serve a lot of the pussy stuff here—'scuse me," he said, checking his language and not a bit chagrined. Then he dropped a can of the lightest version of the lightest brand possible to find in the Devil's Nest, lightly in front of Sheska (who had to trust it was what it was).

Three and a half cans later: "Ya know that one cereal with the sugary grain part and the bits of marshmallows? S'called 'Good Omens' r'something I'm pretty sure."

Paninya rested her head on her elbow. "What about 'em?" Humoring her.

"Well I'z like this, see: I'm the cereal part, and you're the marshmallow-y goodness. Everybody likes the marshmallows because they're all sweet-looking on the outside, but the truth is that what's on the inside's gonna make yer teeth rot. Freaking rotten insides is all there is to 'em all!" Sheska smacked her fourth can on the counter for attention.

Ethan passed them by bearing a shot for a customer further down. "What jerks," he agreed. He'd been keeping tabs on their conversation; virgin drinkers were sure to be hilarious. "What about the cereal?"

"I know!" said Sheska, eyes widening. "The thing is, the marshmallows were only added into the cereal when _they_ decided that just sugary cereal wasn't appealing enough. The cereal was there from the beginning! But of course nobody appreciates the cereal. Lord no!" She shaped her mouth into a length fit for choir. "The cereal is only there to support the chosen marshmallows. Most people don't even eat the cereal. It's the same principal as picking out the MnM's from the trail mix."

"So the marshmallows are the chosen ones," indulged Paninya.

"Yeah. Even though the cereal is trying its best to get eaten, its taste will never measure up to the marshmallows. That's the pecking order, ya know. And it's not _fair_, dammit!" She took a deep swig. "What's so special about the marshmallows, anyway? The cereal is sweet too! Anyway, cereal isn't even _meant_ to be sweet! Sugar in cereal screws with the milk! Sweet cereal is for losers! Are you a loser?! I'm not! Jolly-o's are just fine for me! I don't need marshmallows! Do you hear me?! I don't! I don't!" Suddenly, just when Paninya was about to quiet her down, she lowered her voice in volume and pitch and said in a challenging tone: "Which are you, Panya—cereal or marshmallow?"

"Me? Why I'm the milk."

"Hey," came a new voice. Paninya looked to her right and saw a stocky man in his late twenties sitting on the stool next to her. He had dark brown hair slicked toward the back of his head, and was wearing a kimono-style shirt acting as a vest over a clinging black T-shirt. He leaned toward her, not in a flirting gesture, but almost as if to get a better _smell_ at her, if that made sense. When he opened his mouth again, this time she could observe briefly a unique dental structure; two eerily over-developed incisor teeth. "Who are you? I've never seen you around here." His face was suspicious, but not possible to classify as kind or unkind. It was clear of emotion.

She looped her arm around Sheska's shoulders and gave him an amiable smile. "Oh well, you know, just travelers on the road of life. Guess you could call us tourists, too, if you'd like."

"Get real," he said with a returning smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "There are no tourists that come to Dublith; the tourists of Amestris come _from_ here."

"Paninya? What are you doing he—_Sheska_?!"

The three on the stools swiveled their heads around. Paninya gasped. "Al!" To the bull of the man holding him over his shoulder she said, "Hey now, just what're you doing?" She hopped off of her stool, the mechanical legs creaking with tension.

A short stocky woman with a swirling burgundy tattoo on her arm stepped to block her. Her smile was narrow, and Paninya saw that even without gloss of any kind the lips were somehow shining and full. "This would be business of the manager, and none of yours." She took another challenging step. "Why're you asking; you know this guy?"

"But what are you doing here, Sheska?" Al persisted, still in a state of disbelief. "I'd definitely expect Paninya to be somewhere like this, but you--!" ("And just what's that supposed to mean?! Why I oughta--!")

"It's a bit hard to explain," said Sheska, suddenly sitting straighter and looking more like a grown-up than she did usually. "It has to do with the job I told you about."

"How can you be sober?" said Ethan the bartender, also disbelieving. "You were just rambling like this was the first drink in your life!" She blushed, shrugging. She'd never gotten drunk in public, but partly because of the many vodkas in the privacy of her home and partly because of genetics, she had built up a virtual immunity to alcohol's effects, if that was possible. Paninya, too, shot a look toward her, but she kept her gaze fixed on Al.

The tattooed woman exchanged glances with the giant. "Loa, they could cause trouble if they tell anybody about this outside."

He grunted and shifted Al on his shoulder. "We'll have to get them down there too. Greed might want to interrogate them." Dorochett, still on his stool one away from Sheska, fingered his sword and looked pointedly at her. She started.

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The boy Rose had called Miguel hadn't made a sound so far, and it was making Winry edgy. Kids, as a rule, should always be loud and obnoxious and untamable. The only possible explanation for this heretical silence was that he was scared—which still didn't make much sense to her; what could be scary about the most beautiful creations ever to be beheld gracing you with eternal presence on your own body? _Well then_, she thought resolutely, _it's up to me I guess._

Miguel was sitting quietly as she'd always seen him, hands in his lap, crutches to one side. She came up and chattered about the model of leg he was getting, thinking about how much this silence was somehow offending her; it challenged the way she spent her childhood and time even now. The more she thought about it and the way he had shown no respect to her all this time, the more she could settle for any noise at all. _Even a scream_, she thought maliciously, tapping the ankle of the new leg.

"Now you might feel a little bit of discomfort at the moment when the nerves come to contact with the automail, but don't worry, it's just like a pinch," she lied sweetly. _This'll fix him good,_ she thought, and eagerly started off the countdown. "Feel free to join in if it'll take your mind off the nervousness," she added gleefully, and held the leg wobbily so it looked as if she didn't completely know what she was doing. "…three…two—"

She jammed the leg into the socket with precision but fierce brutality, the same she used on Ed. She grit her teeth thinking of all the cracks he had last come up with to discourage her, and now of the similar leering gaze she imagined on this child of willful silence. Then she closed her eyes, thinking only now of how he had nothing to do with her frustration toward the blond menace, and how she was beginning to regret confusing it with an innocent Liorite refugee who had every right to any choice he might find in all the horror he had already endured; and she listened for the humiliated scream of pain she didn't know, now thoroughly kicking herself.

Of course, Miguel never lost his head for a second. He had seen what was coming and taken it like a man, quite aware of the blond's disbelief of him and determined to show no deference to expectations. So he too had gritted his teeth, but with a cloth he had stuffed in his mouth beforehand at the suggestion of Garfiel between them, and had succeeded beautifully in not making a peep for all the stabbing pain received. And as he watched her open her eyes in even more incredulity than before he felt a rising satisfaction despite the throbbing pangs at the joining area in his leg. And quietly as always, he stood on his new leg, not even making the usual sounds of awe of first time fitted automail-bearers, and hobbled with his young head held high out of the room.

Winry stared after him. Was this what they called…utter defeat?

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"Whoa, cool! He really is empty on the inside!" The Boss of the chimeras of Devil's Nest was as solid of a man as any Sheska had seen—even more so than Major Armstrong. And solid really was the best word for him: his chest looked like bunches of rocks melded together, his arms were so muscled they seemed to bulge without coming off as geometric, and though his shoes made light clacking sounds where he stepped, his gait suggested a density unrivaled. "Nice to meetcha, kid!" he said, slapping Al's head back onto his body offhandedly. "My name is Greed. Let's be friends."

Al took notice right away of the mark on the hand he used to point to himself. "That tattoo—you're a homunculus!"

"Hm? You know about these? You're really in the know, huh?" The next five minutes were spent on Greed's convincing the three of them of the validity of his claim, and at one point Paninya had to twist away from some splattering blood as Loa demonstrated it. After all scientific mumbo-jumbo was said and clear to Al (who decided nonetheless to dub Greed as a top-class 'bad guy', supported by the homunculus' monologue on himself and his goals) he said finally with his marked hand held out palm up, "I've told you my secret, now tell me yours. Tell me what they did with your soul."

"I'd tell him if I were you," prodded Martel, standing beside Dorochett. Although her immobilizing Al had come in handy to end the battle, Greed had thought it was useless now that there was a chance he would be more cooperative. "You don't want to be taken apart and treated like a lab animal, do you?"

"Cheap shot," muttered Paninya, who couldn't see how gaining new and fantastic abilities could compare to losing limbs and having them replaced with cold numb ones. But Sheska gave a tolerant smile to her and a sympathetic glance to Martel.

Al looked away from Greed's probing gaze. "I can't. I don't remember anything about when my soul was transmuted. Someone else performed the transmutation. I don't know anything, honest."

"Then all we gotta do is ask the guy who did the transmutation."

"Well, that would be my big brother. But he—he's gone." For a moment there was total shocked silence. Then the homunculus turned and began a frenzied conference of manners with his underlings. Sheska was surprised that it was Dorochett who reminded them of the delicacy of a young man's feelings, but was alarmed that Al sat next to her calmly, appearing to prefer they thought his brother was dead as he apparently wasn't about to do anything to tell them otherwise.

She had felt from the beginning that she was completely out of her element here, but then she hardly ever was in it when it came to social situations. In any case, it was up to her to set the record straight before things got too complicated. "Um, excuse me? Could you hold it a minute?" she started (as Greed finished saying "Sorry about your loss…" with such a straight face she knew it was only so they would be on good terms for business). "Al's brother isn't dead. He's gone Eastern Headquarters and should be back soon, tomorrow at the latest, actually."

"Sheska!" said Al reproachfully. "I wanted to keep Brother safe," he said in an undertone.

"Try telling the truth, kiddo," said Paninya, getting more annoyed by the second.

"Yeah, it saves a lot of trouble," said Greed, still smiling genially but peering in further at Al's eye holes critically. "So we'll just wait for your brother to get back and ask him what he knows. Unless you happen to know something helpful anyway, now that we're talking honestly here…"

Al paused thoughtfully and blew a capitulating sigh. "Actually, the truth is rather disappointing, Greed-san. I didn't want to say it before because I don't want to help a bad guy who might be on _their_ side, but really it wouldn't help you anyway."

Greed smirked. "I guess I forgot to mention that I don't hang around those guys anymore; we've been through for a long time. And it's not like I'm out to destroy the world—more like to _own_ it." Sheska could tell that Al was unimpressed and didn't believe that the fuzzy-jacketed man could really accomplish this, and that was the only reason he was starting to cooperate.

"The truth is," Al continued, not liking to be interrupted, "that this body of mine isn't immortal. Not even close."

"How d'you figure? Seems durable enough to me."

"That's not the real factor here. A human soul can't be affixed to an object; it'd be like trying to put a human's brain into a dog's body, or do a blood transfusion for a human with rat's blood. The body used can't take the pressure of the two opposing elements forever, and eventually they will reject eachother."

"So that means…" said Sheska, deducing quickly the gravity of the circumstances, and hearing from the other side of Al Paninya's hushed, "Oh, Al!"

"My soul will be rejected by this armor some day. It could happen tomorrow, or a hundred years from now—even I don't know when that day will come, but however you look at it, it will invariably happen." Al looked up at Greed, who was now standing with a brooding expression on his smooth face, and said forcefully, "That's why I think you're foolish to pursue immortality by this route. Please—let us go!"

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Furer President King Bradley was having a wonderful time on the long, slowly but steadily chugging train ride to Dublith, wearing a ridiculous multi-colored shirt and laughing uproariously at the slightest opening in conversation with Major Alex Louise Armstrong, who rambled with such button-bursting fervor that the nearby soldiers wondered if he recognized the Furer for the rank he was.

Wrath was reaching his boiling point. Not only was he not allowed to kill all these imbeciles, he was forced to sit with the (literally) biggest imbecile of all under the pretext that he was under guard. There were some days when he thought that he couldn't take it anymore and he should get started on the debilitating rampage on all mankind he had always felt he was entitled to from the day he woke up. If only a certain Father had chosen the human sacrifices sooner, he wouldn't have to wait! He would begin by wringing the neck of every woman who had at any point dyed her hair an unnatural color and known to be loudly proud of it.

"And the Armstrong family would be honored if the Furer would join us on our annual mountain-climbing escapade to the mountains on the western border; we may even be fortunate enough to employ the boar-spearing technique that has been passed down in the Armstrong family for generations…"

Ancient prancing, chattering aristocrat families, of course, were next on the list.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I regret very much to reveal that, no, I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist the manga or anime or second (not to mention faithful) anime. All these belong soley to Hiromu Arakawa and I guess Bones who is doing a less than fantabulous job with the music this time around. Really, anybody else hating that Italian-sounding strings instrument behind Al's Gaara-complex moment? That was a little bit too much.

Anyway, it's a little pathetic of me to be writing these introductions so energetically when I hardly spend any time working on my actual stories, huh? Don't care. Not writing for a bunch of fourteen-year-olds, writing for moi, I hope you know. So this is number eight. Taking into account the full story I've got planned out, you should also know there's not much left to go. And I hope I didn't mislead anyone into thinking there would be HavocSheska romance here. Pfft. Yeah, I don't do that. Reasons being obvious if you type in "asexuality" in the nearest search engine. Go ahead, try it. Cuz I'm an orientation EVANGELIST! GYAHAHAHAHA!!!

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Before this whole ordeal, Sheska hadn't thought the growling of a human stomach could qualify as a bodily instrument. But Paninya's hunger had thrown all her rankings of belches and farts into chaos. Now she watched in wonder as her Aerugan friend rolled over on her back and stared fixatedly up at the ceiling. She then turned her gaze from the ceiling to the snake chimera, who was watching bemusedly from the floor beside the crates her partner the dog chimera was sitting on. She nodded. "I like your shirt."

Martel started. "Huh? But…" She looked down at her plain black tank-top and back to the captive, also wearing a black tank-top. "Oh. Thanks."

Feeling the conversation was breached, Paninya immediately switched focus to the dog chimera. "Now can I have a sandwich?"

"For the last time, no! You're really a crappy hostage, you know that? Don't you know you don't get any demands?" Dorochette was really not liking this mocking, fast-talking girl with the wide, knowing smile, and he wanted to make it known before anyone could start teasing him. "Anyway you were all completely useless when it came down to it. Where d'ya get off on leading us on like that, huh?" he complained pointedly to Al.

"I never said I held the answer to anything. You guys are the ones who decided it on your own."

Sheska caught Martel's attention to intervene. "Didn't Greed-san think about exactly what type of immortality it would be even if it was possible? Al here can't eat, sleep, or feel a thing; how is that advantageous to such a materialistic person, not being able to interact with what things you gain?"

"I woulda found a way." The three captives stiffened as the homunculus entered the room. He had been upstairs mingling with the customers (not to mention generally making himself thoroughly open to glomps from women who'd had hard days) but had come back every once in a while to check on his "lovable little lumps of ***** (this was a word everyone but Sheska seemed to be quite embarrassed about knowing). He pushed away from the wall he was leaning on and made his way slowly, menacingly toward them, slurping up a brown bubbling liquid Sheska recognized as—

"Soda?" she murmered incredulously. "Mafia bosses drink soda?"

"What, doll, I'm not allowed to?" Greed replied jokingly. Then he frowned. "And I'm not a mafia boss. Do I look like a gangster?" he turned to the two chimeras and Loa behind him, all of whom responded with a half-shrug that looked unerringly practiced.

"But really, now that you say so, Sheska," said Paninya, still lying on her back and not deigning to meet the eyes of the homunculus, "one of those things you listed that you'll always want was women, Greed. How d'ya expect to get women with a body that can't function that way either?"

"Paninya!" shouted Al, bringing his chained hands up to the mouthpiece of his helmet in a mortified gesture. The Auregan caught herself and offered a sheepish shrug, but the damage was done.

The chimeras in the room had blanched with their imaginations taking hold. Loa's face was blank as ever, but somehow it seemed forced. Martel had discreetly covered her own face with her hand and was looking away, but Sheska noted her shoulders quivering as if with suppressed laughter. And caught with his mouth hanging open and tears springing to the corners of his eyes was Dorochette, though he quickly also hid his face. But the most disconcerting reaction came from Bido, who offered a sympathetic, "Man, that's rough buddy. I can't imagine what that'd be like." The comment earned a swift smack upside the head from the snake chimera without skipping a beat.

The homunculus himself, the issue finally brought to his attention, had donned a horrified grimace. He checked himself and smoothed his face over, eyes retaining maximum wideness. "I…gee, I hadn't really thought about that. I figured everything would just fall into place…somehow, anyway, once I had immortality. But that kind of immortality," he said, a fleeting picture of panic crossing his visage, "I could never want."

"Aha! So you _don't_ want everything necessarily!" burst out Paninya, just to be included. Sheska tossed a withering glance in her direction, accompanying those of all the chimeras. Greed sighed and stooped over her triumphant face.

"Right you are, kiddo," he said with a jocular leer, "Guess I'll have to rethink my whole philosophy; or maybe I'll just switch to only aiming for everything that's _good_."

"You'll never get anywhere that way," came a voice tight as steel suddenly.

Martel looked questioningly to Dorochette, who had the best ears in the current group of chimeras. He complied, facing Greed instead. "It didn't come from inside this room is all I can tell…" As he spoke there came a sinister rumbling from behind the walls. He paused a few seconds, not seeming to breath, and whipped his head around to the wall across from the three captives, now huddling together fiercely. "Footsteps! But they're surrounded by this feel, like…I think it might be a—"

BOOM! With a pop, a grand looking double door with shining handles hanging came into existence, and through them plowed the last person Al wanted to see, going by the petrified shriek he emitted. The first thing Izumi Curtis did as she confronted her former pupil was hurl a Mr. Expendable his way, incidentally striking Sheska as well (Paninya, of course, was still lying down, albeit now wisely on her tummy with her hands over head as if seeking shelter from a bomb—which more or less was the situation). "YOU MORON!" shouted Izumi in all her glowering glory. "How the HELL could you let yourself get kidnapped?! And you two," she said in a quieter, livid tone, "as adults, shoulda been taking care of him! Worthless!"

Greed did a double take, not bothering to clear away the smirk from his face. "'Scuse me lady, and who the hell are you?"

"I'M A **HOUSEWIFE**!!!" came the immediate response. Al slumped his head in his hands. A humble answer that betrayed the underlying supremacy made it all the scarier.

"Oh my God…" said Dorochette, horrified beyond words. "Uh, Boss? It may be just my animal instinct talking, but this might be more than we can handle." Beside him, Martel shuddered in agreement.

Greed thrust his chin up slightly, a sign that he was getting frustrated but determined to retain some semblance of control. "I understand. Lemme guess, babe, you're in charge of these three? Al?" He prompted the Elric without looking his way.

"She—yeah, she's to my brother and I, our sensei."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd direct your questions toward me," said Izumi sharply. "Not promising you'll get any answers, of course."

Greed paused, taking stock of the situation. "Look, lady, I'm pretty sure I've gotten everything I could've outta them already, unless you know something they don't know about immortality."

"All I know about immortality is that it's impossible for anybody, or any_thing_," she added, noticing the tattoo on his hand, "mortal. Which I see you are, homunculus." She switched her biting tone to one more reasonable. "At the moment all I want is these kids safe back with me. I'll even pretend I never saw any of you, you or these chimeras, should I come by the government."

"Ah, but one of your students _is_ the government." Greed smiled tightly. "All right. As long as we're negotiating, I'll let two of them go, but one stays here till I get to meet with the older brother. That's all there is to it," he said with a voice of finality as the persons involved started.

"Or how about this," said Izumi with rising ire, "How about I beat the snot outta each of you and take them all back anyway?"

"Please, Mrs. Curtis!" came a squeak. Izumi stared at the mousey Sheska, sitting bolt upright, in disbelief. "Actually, I'll volunteer to stay behind, if it means no injuries to either side, I mean." As she found herself the center of attention, she shrank back to clutch Al's cold hand. "And anyway, it's sort of my entire reason for coming here and my mission, now that I think about it. I'd be very grateful to stay behind for awhile."

"Mission?" barked Izumi. "Since when?" But from then on everything moved in a blur. Dorochette cut all their bonds swiftly and without speaking (Sheska's too because, let's face it, who'd think of _her_ as a threat?) led Al and Paninya to the center of the room where they slowly stepped to meet Izumi. The housewife turned before going through the door to address Sheska. "Just keep your mouth shut while you're waiting and you'll be fine by the time Ed gets here," she said shortly, and slammed the door she'd transmuted behind her."

Before there could be any moment of quiet to take it all in, Greed swooped over the former librarian's head and lifted an eyeridge quizzically. "Mind sharing all this about a mission with the rest of the class?"

"Yeah, it was all I could do to keep from laughing right then," said Dorochette with a snort.

Even Martel, as she slid down next to her, couldn't help snickering. "I can't believe for a second that someone like you could be undergoing some infiltration or whatever. But," she said, eyes twinkling to say she was only humoring her, "who would this be for?"

"The military," said Sheska honestly. She then allowed about a minute and a half for their giggling and miscellaneous murmuring, and continued, "For a really stupid reason I was transferred from the passive investigative team, where we're in control of research, to the active one, where we conduct the searches to be researched. I guess this happens every decade or so to keep information fresh," she added wryly. "In any case, when I said it was a 'mission' that was sort of a lie; it's more like an errand. This is my first job, so I guess they gave me a small one on purpose.

"I am here under orders to, as stated by the task form, 'investigate possibility of illegal drug trafficking in said business, such as cocaine, meth, speed and such. In the event that said business is found guilty of the charge, the private shall return immediately to headquarters and conduct necessary steps in order to shut said business down'". As soon as she finished reciting the form, though, she hung her head and laughed. "Yeah, right. Here I am, ready to shut you and all your minions down for good. Please!"

Greed had been hiding his mouth behind his hand the entire time she was talking. Now he coughed and removed it, revealing the widest beam from ear to ear known to any, in and out of mankind. "And, uh, is this all under the pretext of business or am I being targeted?"

"Oh, there's no pretext, Greed-san. Truthfully this whole thing is only because there was a law that came out exactly a year after you first set up your shop—bar—er—"

"Call it whatever you like," said the homunculus, still with a lingering chortle. "Not like I care."

"Shop, then. Nowadays you're kind of supposed to fill out a bunch of paperwork and submit it to the town records. It's kinda like a promise you won't do anything to disrupt the peace of the town, but it's more like a formality and doesn't really say anything. It just gets you a bunch of extra fees in court in the end."

"Okay, that whole idea is stupid. Like I'd let myself get caught. Pfft."

"Hm?"

"Nothing. So anyway, those forms weren't around when I got here, so they shouldn't apply, right?"

"Well, they still apply since the law is in place _now_, but actually the military hadn't known you'd started your business before it; I just found that out from the bar-guy. So in your case you can just sign the forms now and be done with it till the next decade."

"That's a lucky break." Greed raised an eyebrow again. "But wait, you didn't know about that before you came here, so you probably wouldn't have the forms anyway."

"That's true, but actually you got really lucky this time. It just so happens that I've seen those documents before, and remembering the contents of literary materials is my specialty. So if you'd happen to have a typewriter around, I can make one for you to sign and it'll be done." She smiled weakly. "It's kind of all I was sent here for, and it's really not that big of a deal…"

"Okay. No problem. I think we got one of those things around here somewhere, but it's ancient." Greed tossed another grin. "It's been forever since we've had to use one of them, see."

Sheska surveyed the room full of chimeras rowdy and frightening. "Yeah, I can see that."

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That same afternoon at the Curtis residence, an exhausted Ed and two unexpected guests (only one of whom was welcomed with honest smiles) arrived. Sig Curtis took an immediate liking to Alex Louis Armstrong, who did more than enough talking to form a decent understanding between them and fast. Furer President King Bradley, on the other hand, was discouraged strongly only with body language from entering the house part of the building, and spent most of his time there on a stool by the counter. Paninya and Al had said the necessary greetings and engaged in shallow conversation with the Furer, but had gradually eased away as it became clear he wasn't all there. When it was heading toward evening in the day, he caught the Aerugan's attention. "I heard you and Alphonse had been running errands today and got caught up at a particular shop. The Devil's Nest, wasn't it?" His right eye closed in a friendly wink.

"Yes, that's right. We were there for a little while." Paninya answered truthfully. This was a man who should be trusted without doubts, the leader of the nation, but she couldn't sink back the sensation of alarm creeping through her head.

"If I remember right, a little while ago there was a task for a private to investigate that very shop. I think we needed it searched because of some suspicions voiced from the public. Someone had reported a leader among them with extremely tough skin, apparently. It even seemed as if this monster couldn't die." The Furer's eye opened abrubtly, making her jump. "Did you and Alphonse happen to meet this character?"

For a moment Paninya was caught off guard and sat still, breath stuck in her throat. This was too probing, too strange, and completely different from the whimsical personality earlier. But she had a feeling it was dangerous to tell the complete truth. "Yes, actually. His name was, uh, Ghoon-hahm Tsung," she said quickly, recalling the slanted eyes of Greed, and how he could have, save for his height, passed for a Xingese man. "There's nothing really extraordinary about him, although he is known to be a bit thick-skinned. He served for a time in the war, he said."

"I see," said the Furer, and fell silent with his hands in his lap. She waited politely a few seconds and hastily took her leave.

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On the outskirts of Youswell huddled two figures, one significantly larger in proportion than the other. The "other" scrambled down one of the braids of the former and shifted to full height on the hand. Mei Chan wheezed. She'd had about enough for a lifetime of all this sand in her face. And at long last, their journey was about to end! At least, this one was; who knew what fortune awaited them on the other side of the wall? "Hold close to me, Xiao Mei," she said to the panda, not bothering to whisper because her voice was so hoarse already. Then she began the treacherous climb up the tower, thinking all the while that it would have been so much easier to transmute stairs instead. If only stealth weren't a factor now! Well, if it was a trade off for the sand, it was a welcome one.

As she neared the top, she began to think about her encounter with the upper prince. On one hand, all three of them were older and had more experience than she, but on the other, she could take comfort in the fact that it would have been that much more difficult for them to cross the desert with each other to look after. She was fortunate that Xiao Mei was so small in size (although she could not say as much for her appetite). She hoped with all her heart, as she checked that her companion was still attached, that those three were still a ways behind her and that she could at least gain a head start.

Inside the tower, right below the ledge Mei lifted herself over, were many and various types of empty cans and wrappers. And in the midst of them was a slip of paper decorated with a two characters: daizi.

_Sucker_.

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The next day Paninya woke up early, in time to see Edward walk off briskly in the direction of the part of town home to the Devil's Nest. She was glad Izumi had made him wait till the morning; it had given him time to think. But she didn't doubt he would sock the homunculus one anyway for kidnapping his brother. "And now," said Paninya, throwing off the sheets and tip-toeing through the house to the doorway, making sure not to even get close to where Al sat staring out the window not-sleeping. She went out the back door, closing it softly. "There's a certain Magenta lady who's been waiting to see somebody." She grinned roguishly and sped down the street to the neighbor's house.

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Al heard Paninya slip around the house and through the backdoor and decided not to stop her. 'Brother will take care of them,' he thought. 'Anyway, as long as such a late sleeper like Paninya is up, I guess I should be too.' He stood, the suit's joints creaking, and reminded himself to get oil the first chance he got. He started toward the kitchen, thinking to wash the dishes durable enough to handle without their breaking, or to dust, when he heard the rumbling voice of the Major Armstrong coming from the shop part of the house. To sneak close enough to hear them would be no easy task with his body, but he moved inch by inch, and thankfully the Major's voice took over the room long enough for him to get a few long steps.

When he was just near enough, he shut off his sight sense to hear better. It worked like, but not quite just like, closing his eyes in that he truly had to think about it. He heard the Major's voice continue: "…but sir, Edward Elric is heading there in order to negotiate the release of a friend, actually who is also—"

"A private, I know. But she is of no concern on this. Major Armstrong, contact Southern HQ right away and request thirty troops' backup. We will proceed to undergo invasion of the Devil's Nest at noon this morning. The man with the ouroboros tattoo is our primary target to capture; all others excluding the Elric boy are to be terminated on sight. I will go to the train station for the troops' arrival. Go."

"Yes, sir."

If Al had been able to, he would have been holding his breath all the time he had been standing there. Overcome with shock and appalled at what he had heard, he found himself tilting forward and had to catch himself in time. He vaguely heard the heavy footsteps of Major Armstrong going to the payphone and the light, muffled steps of the Furer. There was barely any noise as the President exited the building through the shop door.

Alphonse's thoughts were a whirling fog, thinking of the chasms of difference between the Furer who had come to visit his brother in the hospital and the dark, steaming persona he had witnessed just now. Cautiously he made his way to the back door, stopping only to pick up some chalk and scanning the rooms for a clock. 'It's almost nine,' he thought, dread swelling up inside him. Had he a normal body the adrenaline would have begun to pump from the first word he had heard; now as he set out at a steady rolling pace he felt the sickening advantage of it.

He ran toward the Devil's Nest.

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Ghoon-hahm is a main character from Kill Me, Kiss Me.

Tsung is one of those Turks from Final Fantasy 7, but I'm pretty sure his name isn't spelled that way. And daizi really is one word for fool or sucker, in Chinese. I looked it up. See how dedicated I am? Doesn't it make you want to encourage me with a review? HINT HINT!! D


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